


Rule Number One

by leftennant



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Romanogers - Fandom, Thor (Movies), Wintershock - Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Firefighter AU, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis never planned to get engaged to a guy she barely knew at Natasha and Steve's Las Vegas wedding, and then bolt the next morning without saying goodbye.  She certainly didn't intend to get pregnant during their twelve hour engagement either.  Apparently what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas, and now Darcy is contending with way more than she bargained for.  This includes, but is not limited to, one baby daddy who wants to make it work, an overly opinionated group of friends who all want to be up in her business, and a very specific list of rules that keeps getting broken at every turn.  To be honest, the rule breaking is probably the best part.  Especially rule number one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zygote Shmygote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts).



> Sooo, I was talking to the lovely and talented Dresupi the other day, when this little AU plot bunny showed up. It was just to good to pass over. Plus I feel like this fandom could use some serious fluff right now, since I suspect Civil War is going to kill us all. Anyway, you can expect lots of smuffy goodness, and humor, and a happy ending to be had for all. That's just how I roll. None of it is meant to be serious, I just needed a little romcom, fairytale style fic to help me through the CW angst. ;D
> 
>   
> Beta'd by [Miin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miin/pseuds/miin/works). 
> 
> UPDATE 6/13/17: Due to personal stuff, I'm taking a break from writing for a while. Sadly, I've got to put this fic on hiatus at the moment. Sorry about that. It's not what I want, but it's what I need to do right now. -Lefty
> 
> ***************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD YOU GUYS LOOOOOOK!!!!!!! The lovely, and immensely talented [soothsayerstale](http://soothsayerstale.tumblr.com/) (crazynoona on ao3) made me incredible art for this fic. She. Is. Phenomenal. Seriously. If you are not following her on tumblr and subscribed to her on ao3, do it.
> 
> **********************************************************

Darcy stared at the double blue lines on the white plastic stick that were the culmination of a fuck ton of bad decisions. The end result of everything she never should have done. The cherry on top of a sundae full of stupid. The Mothra of mistakes in a Godzilla’s worth of reckless ideas. The...the...

She’d run out of clever metaphors but whatever. The final answer would not affected by her coming up with a new one, no matter how hard she wished it was. Not when she was currently carrying the zygote by-product of a major lapse of judgement, and everything was fucking, fucking, fucking _terrible_.

The sex, though. It hadn’t been terrible. In fact, it had been pretty damn good...what Darcy remembered anyway. They’d both been kind of plastered, which, okay probably she shouldn’t be remembering how good the sex was right now while she was trying to figure out what to do about the zygote situation.

Was it a zygote? It occurred to Darcy that she should have paid better attention in biology, instead of doodling Mrs. Darcy Way on her book cover. And now she was humming the Welcome to the Black Parade which wasn’t particularly helpful with her decision making process. She needed to focus. Come up with a plan. Take the next step.

It should be zygote removal, right? Because she was in no way prepared for the final evolve of said zygote. Kids weren’t even a blip on Darcy’s radar at the moment. More to the point, she’d never thought they would be. To her, children were walking germ factories with no impulse control, or filters. She had enough trouble with her own lack of impulse control and filter, and definitely did not need any extra in the form of a small, sticky human, thank you very much.

For a moment her brain conjured up what the small, sticky human might look like, and she raced to shut that shit down immediately. The last thing she needed was to mentally wax eloquent over the shared spawn of herself and Bucky Barnes. 

At the thought of his stupid name, Darcy made a face. How she had ever fallen into bed with a guy who preferred a nickname like _that_ over the perfectly good first name ‘James’ was a mystery to her. But she had fallen into bed with him, and now apparently she was going to have lie in that damn bed. She was also going to sue the shit out of the pharmaceutical company that manufactured her birth control, because not being pregnant was sort of the whole point of their merchandise. Clearly they had not gotten that fucking memo. First, however, Darcy was going to pee on another stick, just to be sure.

In total, she peed on twelve. They were all positive. The last one took longer to give a result, and she pinned all her hopes on it, but eventually it said the same thing all the rest of them did. With a loud sigh, she tossed the offending test into the trash, and washed her hands.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Right? This wasn’t the 1950s. Options were available to her, should she wish to take them. It would really only require one phone call to a clinic, and setting up a friend to drive her. 

Or...or she could not do that. There was always keeping the baby. Darcy stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She looked like a person who was damn well panicked over a surprise pregnancy. It was not a good look for her. A few deep breaths later, she looked again. Slightly less panicked, and still pregnant. Also not a good look for her. What she needed to do was talk to someone who would be completely objective, so she could figure out what to do next.

That meant Jane was out. Jane was wonderful, and an amazing friend, but she was quickly approaching her due date with her and Thor’s first baby. All she wanted to do all day was discuss cribs, and breastfeeding, and the joys of impending motherhood. Darcy figured that ruled her out as best possible person for the job. 

This left Wanda, who was out of the country on some kind of press tour for her latest book, and Natasha, who had just gotten back from her honeymoon. Natasha was the best choice, but there was no way Darcy was disturbing someone who might still be in honeymoon mode. 

Of course there was always Clint. Clint had been one of her best friends since childhood, when Darcy crashed her bike into his mailbox. She was sitting in the road, bruised and fighting back tears, until Clint appeared out of nowhere with an Orangesicle in one hand, and a slightly rumpled, unopened band-aid in the other. After that they were always close, even though he was a couple years older than her. Like the big brother that only child Darcy never had.

He was awesome, and amazing, and mostly deaf, which meant that Darcy had learned sign language at age seven just so he didn't have to read her lips all the time. It was a handy skill to have. They could talk shit about the people in public, and usually no one was the wiser.

Clint didn’t have a uterus that could be taken over by foreign invaders, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be sympathetic. Also he was probably home. Doing nothing. Because it was Saturday, and on Saturdays Clint did nothing except eat cold pizza, and watch Cartoon Network with his roommate, Wade.

Right. Clint it was. Darcy pulled out her phone and texted him to ask if he could Skype. He texted back that he could. Super.

Five minutes later, Darcy decided this was possibly another bad idea on her part. She’d sort of given a mental hiccup the minute Clint signed ‘Hey, you. What’s so urgent?’, and blurted out, “So. I’m knocked up.”

A very, very pregnant pause followed, the irony of which was not lost on Darcy, and then his fingers flew over the keyboard of his computer, typing out, “Uh, Darce? Can you repeat that? Because I’m pretty sure I misread your lips right there, since we don’t have sex. Ever. Wait. Did we? Darcy, you’d tell me if we had the sex, right? Was it good? Please tell me it was good.”

“Yeah. It’s not yours, dumbass,” she replied, typing her words as well, so he didn’t have to rely on reading her lips, or watching her sign. Signing via online chat could get a little wonky when her wifi couldn’t keep up. “Unless we have some weird, baby making, friendship osmosis going on.”

“True. Although that would be kind of cool. Osmosis babies. I bet we’d make cute ones. Do you think they’d be blonde like me?” He made a face like Vivian fucking Leigh in Gone With the Wind, staring hopefully off into the distance...probably imagining their fleet of tow-headed osmosis toddlers. Then he glanced over to see her reaction out of the corner of his eyes, a grin starting to form on his mouth. “We could give them strong, powerful names, like Stormtrooper, and Han Solo. What do you think?”

Darcy was actually in fact, going to jump through the laptop and strangle him. “Are you fucking serious right now, Barton? I. Am having. A crisis. And you are naming our fake, blonde offspring after Star Wars characters.”

He held both hands up apologetically, then signed, “Right, right, right. Sorry. I got a little carried away. So, if it isn’t osmosis, who’s the fath…” His fingers stilled mid word as his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open comically. Darcy would have laughed if the whole situation was so damn serious. Moments later he started clacking away at the keys again. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, _shit_. Barnes? Noooo. Really?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself. And yes.”

“Does he know?”

Darcy frowned as the words appeared on her screen. “He does not. I just found out. You’re the first person I told.”

“I um, I’m honored? Is that the wrong thing to say? Futzing hell, Darce, I have no idea what I’m doing here. Are you going to tell him?” Clint’s gaze flicked up from the keyboard to the camera, concern etched on his face. “More to the point, are you okay? Do you need anything? Crackers? Ginger ale? A ride to your..uh...lady doctor person?”

She snorted at his typically Clint reference to a gynecologist. God. Morning sickness. Darcy hadn’t even thought of that, but now she was, and ugh. Vomiting at random times for no reason was just extra icing on the zygote-cake she could do without. “Maybe? Not the crackers. I’m not sick yet. But yeah. The ride I could use. Maybe. I’m still figuring that out. Clint, am I supposed to tell him? Would he even want to know?”

“Whoaaa, slow down there, Tiger. The ride I can do. The rest?” Clint’s expression went cagey. “I’m not exactly at liberty to divulge that.”

“What?”

If anything, he looked even _more_ cagey. Darcy leaned closer to her screen, fixing her camera with a steely eye, and typed, “Clinton Francis Barton, what the hell are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” He scratched nervously behind his left ear before bringing his hand back to the keyboard to join the other one. “Hey, have you considered calling Nat? I think maybe that would be...helpful.”

“You think I should call Nat?”

“Yes.”

Darcy compressed her lips into a thin line, and typed, “Is this part of what you aren’t telling me?”

There was no response for a few seconds, and then he responded with, “Possibly.”

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that Bucky was watching Sousa while they were away?”

Sousa was Steve’s dog. He was part golden retriever, and part god knows what, possibly Sherman tank. It was really hard to tell. Whatever the combination was, Sousa was gigantic, lazy, and friendly to a fault. Darcy loved him, despite the fact that he was an inveterate counter surfer, and had a penchant for dropping a faded, slimy-with-drool tennis ball in her lap like some sort of doggie approved welcome gift whenever she visited.

“Would you kill me if I said ‘possibly’ again?” Barton typed.

“They’ve been home for almost four weeks. I thought he was going back to wherever it is that he lives once their honeymoon was over. Tell me he isn’t still at their house.”

She could see Clint exhale through pursed lips, and then the next message from him popped up on her screen. “He is, but you did not hear that from me.”

“You’re kidding me. He’s really at their house? Why? What idiot doesn’t know the first rule about leaving newlyweds alone in their new home to do the whole nesting, sexing, newlywed thing?”

“Like I said, you did not hear it from me that he has been on their couch, pining for a certain Maid of Honor for the past six weeks.”

“Pining?” Darcy wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“He proposed to you,” Clint replied.

“Yeah, within twenty-four hours of meeting me. So excuse me if I didn’t take it seriously,” she typed back. “And PS, we hated each other for most of those twenty-four hours.”

“Maybe, but you accepted,” he pointed out.

“I was very, very drunk.”

“You weren’t that drunk.”

“DRUNK,” Darcy insisted. “All the drunk, Clint. No sober girl would have accepted that monstrosity of a ring. Even if they were head over heels in love with Bucky. Trust me.”

Clint grinned. “I liked it.”

“You would.”

“It was very continental. _French_ continental.”

“It was the fucking Eiffel Tower,” Darcy replied with a snort. She meant that literally. Bucky had purchased the nightmare piece of offending jewelry straight from the Eiffel Tower Experience on the Las Vegas Strip.

“You forgot shiny. It was a _shiny_ Eiffel Tower, and not to rain on your tacky engagement ring hate parade here, but you showed it off to everyone at the reception. You called it, and I quote, ‘one of a kind - just like your fiancé’.”

She groaned. “Shut up, Clint, just shut up. There’s no way I said that.”

“Yes you did.” He smiled gleefully. “You got up on a table and announced it to the whole room when you guys came back from the Eiffel Tower Experience engaged.”

“Proof that I was monumentally drunk.”

“You forget that I’ve seen you monumentally drunk. I even held your hair while you puked into a floral arrangement at your parent’s wedding anniversary two years ago when you got wrecked after they told everyone they were getting divorced during dinner. Ergo, I know that you were not that drunk.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again. Also, did you just use ‘ergo’ in an actual sentence?”

“You say that like I’m the kind of guy who wouldn’t use ‘ergo’ in a sentence.”

“Exactly.”

“You know, I’m a little hurt here by your lack of faith in my intelligence, Darce. Maybe I want to expand my horizons, and increase my vocabulary. Have you ever thought of that?”

“Uhuh.” Darcy raised an eyebrow at him. “Does this have anything to do with your major boner for a certain author we both know?”

He read her response, and then typed back, “I resent those implications.”

“Whatever. I’m right. Just admit it.”

“Talk to Nat about the baby with Bucky thing, and maybe I’ll own up to my boner for Wanda.”

She turned it over in her head for a moment. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I really think Natasha wants Bucky off her couch. I doubt she cares how that is achieved at this point.”

“How is me telling her I’m pregnant going to get him off her couch?”

Clint shrugged. “Phase one: call Natasha. Phase two: ‘?’. Phase three: Bucky is off the couch.”

“Did you just compare me informing Natasha that I’m up a fucking pole, to the underpants gnomes on South Park? God, you’re dorky. Were you always this dorky, Clint? How did I never notice before?”

“Hold on. I want to sign this one.” He took a step back from the laptop and gave her the finger. With both hands. It was actually pretty fancy, with a big dancing middle finger flourish at the end. “How’s that?” he signed. “Want an instant replay? Slo-mo? I could incorporate finger puppets if you want.”

While Clint was still signing, Wade wandered into the room carrying what looked like a bowl of electric orange macaroni and cheese. He noticed the open laptop, and headed straight for it.

“Abort! Abort!” Darcy typed frantically. “INCOMING! Clint, shut it down!”

Barton’s brow furrowed as he squinted to read the words, understanding dawning a half second too late. 

“Heeeey Marlee Matlin, who you skyping with?” Wade asked Clint as he leaned down to look at the screen. The moment he recognized Darcy on the other end, Wade smirked, and said, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my arch nemesis. Hello, Lewis. What brings your virtual presence to our humble abode? No. Don’t tell me. I’ll just peruse your little convo with Clinton here.”

She could see him glancing over the lines of type, lips moving slightly, as Clint tried unsuccessfully to haul him away from the laptop. Well. This entire operation had just gone to shit. 

After he finished reading, Wade shot her a gleeful look, and chortled, “Ooooh. Darcy the baby mama. How about that? You know, this never would have happened if you would stop pretending you aren’t in love with me, and just be my girlfriend, Lewis. I mean, unless _I_ was the one who knocked you up, which could have been arranged had you only asked.”

“Go to hell, Wade,” she responded sweetly. 

“See? What am I always saying? The lady doth protest too much.” He took a bite of his mac and cheese, and pointed his fork at her. “Just so you know, having someone else’s bun in the oven changes nothing. My offer is still open. I love kids. My brother-in-law even taught his how to fetch beer from the fridge.”

“Your brother in law has a Border Collie, not a kid,” Darcy said. “Wade, please. You cannot tell anyone about this, okay? No one. I’m handling it.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got Barnes’ number programmed right here in my phone. Oh. What is my finger doing? Is it hovering over his name? Can you see that, Lewis? I don’t even know what it's thinking, hovering like that. It’s like it has a mind of its own. Bad finger! Baaaaaad finger.”

Darcy rubbed her hand over her forehead. “Wade, please don’t make me murder you in a haze of pregnancy hormone induced violence.”

“Don’t worry. I’m just kidding, beautiful,” he said. Then he grinned at her. “Or am I?”

At this point Clint managed to drag Wade away from the screen, and knock the phone out of his hand. The bowl of macaroni went flying as Clint wrestled him onto the floor. Both men disappeared briefly. Then a hand appeared, rapidly signing, “CALL NAT NOW! I CAN ONLY HOLD HIM SO LONG! FUTZ!”

Darcy sighed, signed out of Skype, and reached for her phone.

The conversation with Natasha wasn’t exactly a whole lot better than the one with Clint. First off, Steve answered her phone, which threw Darcy off right at the start. It didn’t help matters that she could hear Bucky’s voice in the background, confirming Clint’s intel that he was there.

“Hey Darce,” Steve said when he picked up. “Give Nat one second. She’ll be right with you.”

Some muffled discussion went on, and then Darcy could clearly hear Nat whisper, “Don’t you dare tell him she’s on the phone, or I swear to God, Steven, you will be sleeping on the couch with Bucky for the rest of your natural life,” before she brightly chirped, “Hi! How are you?”

“Pregnant,” Darcy replied. Clearly relaying the news with any kind of finesse was not going to be her strongpoint.

There was a scraping sound on the other end of the phone like Nat had pulled out a chair and sat down in it, then she said, “So, what are your thoughts on having a drink before noon? Because I feel like that is something I’m going to do right now.”

“Have at it,” Darcy replied. “I’d have one too, but...well...reasons.”

“Yeah. So. God. Pregnant. Are you sure?”

“How sure is twelve positive tests?” she asked.

“I’d say that’s pretty damn sure.” Darcy could hear the sound of liquid sloshing into a cup, and then Natasha taking a sip. “Any thoughts on what you want to do about it? Sorry if I sound vague. We have some extenuating circumstances right now.”

“Yeah, I heard the extenuating circumstance’s voice when Steve picked up,” Darcy said. “To answer your question, I have no idea what I plan on doing. I haven’t even decided if I’m going to tell him or not.”

“You know what? I think I need to put this drink in a travel mug, and take Sousa for a walk before someone overhears. Give me just a sec,” Nat replied. 

There was a dull clink which Darcy assumed was Natasha setting the phone down on the table, and then she could hear her whistling for the dog. A short time later the call resumed.

“Okay,” Nat said. “I left the boys watching some History Channel documentary on the Civil War. We have permission to speak freely.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“No problem. It feels a little weird to ask how you are, but how are you?”

“Not good? Sort of terrified? Both?”

“I bet. Just so you know, I’m here for you whatever you decide. This is your call. I’m not about to judge.”

“You have no idea how grateful I am for that.” Darcy dropped down into the plushy comfort of her couch, and pulled a poppy colored throw blanket over her legs. 

“You should be aware, though, that Bucky has been camped out on our sofa since Steve and I got back,” Nat told her. “Actually, he was camped out there _before_ we got back too. All he talks about is you.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Natasha said. “The man is a wreck. A wreck that just happens to be wallowing in his misery in my living room.” 

“Ugh.” Darcy made a face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve got enough to worry about right now. Speaking of that, you said you hadn’t decided if you were keeping it or not. What are your thoughts there?”

“I don’t know. I keep going back and forth, which is stupid, right? How can I keep it? I’m too young, and work is too busy right now, and I hate kids. You know I hate kids.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Nat replied. “I know you didn’t have any plans for kids in your immediate future. It’s not quite the same as hating them. And it’s not all kids. What about Sam and Helen’s little girl? You love her, right? Sousa… Sousa, don’t eat that. Sousa, stop! Shit. Hold on.” Natasha disappeared again, only to return a few seconds later with a loud sigh. “Sorry about that, he was slobbering all over the neighbor’s metal frog...sculpture...thing. Why do people even have those? Is a lawn not enough? Does it require further decoration? I feel like there were some sort of classes Steve and I should have attended on moving to the suburbs that we missed. Maybe I should call the homeowner's association and ask. Anyway, where were we? You hating kids?”

“Yeah. Me hating kids. You’re right about Adelie, she’s pretty cool, but look at her parents, right? With parents that awesome, she’s bound to be cool.” Darcy picked absently at a loose piece of string on the throw. “What if...okay, and this is very theoretical, what if I don’t actually hate this one either? The uh...the one I’m growing?”

“Hmmm. If that’s the case, then you may want to tell Bucky. Otherwise you’ll be supporting and parenting a child all on your own. Which is fine if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?” 

“I don’t know. Like I said, right now I have no idea what I want.” She flopped back on the couch cushions. “Do you think he has a right to know?”

“You know, you could ask ten people that, and all ten might have a different answer for you.”

“I don’t want to ask ten people, I just want to know what _you_ think.”

“Are you sure? It might not be what you want to hear.”

“Maybe what I don’t want to hear is exactly what I need to hear,” Darcy replied.

“All right then. Here’s my two cents. I think you and Bucky need to discuss this, and not because of some antiquated ‘he has a right to know’ sentiment, but because you got engaged to him at my wedding, spent the night with him, _bailed_ before he woke up in the morning, and now it sounds like you’re considering keeping the spawn of that short-lived engagement.”

“I’m not sure how that isn’t antiquated sentiments right there,” Darcy grumbled. “Although using the word ‘spawn’ was a nice touch. It really makes the baby sound less like a parasite, and more like something I want to wrap in a blanket and coo at.”

“Fine. How about this one, then. We’ve known each other half our lives. You have never, and I mean never, lit up the way you did when you were around Barnes. Even when the two of you were acting like you couldn’t stand each other, the chemistry was visible to everyone within a mile radius. True, the whole engagement after a single weekend of knowing each other was insane, and I get that...but if you hadn’t drunkenly gotten engaged to Bucky, would you still be dating him right now?”

Darcy went silent, working it out in her head. “I…”

“Be honest,” Natasha interrupted. “Because if you aren’t, the only person you’ll really be lying to is yourself.”

“Yes,” she finally said. “I would. Fuck me. The engagement part freaked me out, but I actually _really_ liked him.”

“Well he actually really likes you. And he’s living on my couch right now due to his really liking you, which, and please don’t take this the wrong way, is becoming increasingly inconvenient to Steve and me.”

“So you think I should tell him.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what _you_ think. But, I will say this; Bucky is a decent guy, Darce. Even if you don’t want to tell him about the pregnancy, I think you should at least talk to him about what happened in Vegas. Right now he can't figure out what he did wrong.”

“Other than move way too fast with a girl he barely knew?” Darcy said dryly.

“Not to play devil’s advocate, but he wasn’t the only one moving too fast that night. I seem to recall you flashing a truly hideous ring like it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and telling all our guests that you’d found the love of your life. For the record, he’s agreed that the engagement thing was crazy, and spur of the moment...and largely due to the open bar. It’s not like you handled it very well either. There are better ways to call off an engagement of temporary insanity than leaving the Eiffel Tower on the pillow, and flying back to New York without saying goodbye.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, you asked.”

“So, I guess I’m talking to him.”

“Are you?” Natasha’s voice was deceptively calm, but Darcy knew her internal matchmaker was secretly cheering.

“I am,” she said.

“And will you be having this little tête-à-tête at my house, or your apartment?” Nat inquired.

“I’ll have it over here. At least that will get Bucky off your couch for a while, right?”

“If you think I’m going to argue with that, you’re nuts. Steve and I are about ready to check into a hotel. A hotel, Darcy. For sex. Because no sex has happened since we got back. Do you need Bucky’s number?”

“No.” Darcy shook her head even though Natasha couldn’t see her. “It’s still in my phone.”

“ _Really_? Interesting.”

“Nope, nope, nope. Stop reading more into that than there is. I just forgot to delete it.”

“If you say so. I seem to recall you having every trace of that Boothby guy deleted before he even made it to the elevator after the two of you called it quits.”

“Stop knowing me so well, dammit,” Darcy ordered, and Natasha laughed.

“I’m glad you’re going to talk to him, and not just because it will get him out of my house for a while.”

“Yeah. I’ll try to keep here him long enough for the two of you to christen your new bedroom at least.”

“Awww, aren’t you sweet? I can come by afterwards if you need to debrief. I’ll even bring some ice cream, and two cans of whipped cream. We can spray it directly into our mouths like complete heathens,” Nat offered.

“That sounds perfect. Alright. I’m going to hang up and call him. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Darce. Remember, I’ve got your back whatever happens, okay?”

“Yep. Talk to you later, Nat.”

“Bye.”

And that was it. There was nothing left for Darcy to do except call Bucky. She scrolled to his name, took a deep breath, and pushed send.


	2. Blame it on the Champagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy has had enough of morning sickness, Natasha is a saint, and Bucky has a very interesting ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo. What is up, you guys? So. The response to this story has been amazing, and I'm kinda over here meeping and fangirling. Have I mentioned that I love you all? I do. So much. Thank you for showing up to read this little AU. I am completely floored by the kudos and reviews, and holy cats you guys are awesome. All the hearts for you. All of them. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, I would like to wish a very happy birthday to the lovely and talented Dresupi. She's a total birthday princess today!!!!! YAY!
> 
> *****************************************************

Darcy spent her entire Monday at work in an absolute fit of nerves. She should have just bitten the bullet and sat down with Bucky on Sunday, but she decided she needed one more day to deal with things before telling him about the baby. It was the second dumbest decision of her life. All she’d done for the past two days was panic, throw up, and replay every single second of her time with Bucky over in her head. The stuff she could remember, anyway.

The vomiting was an extra special addition to her growing inner turmoil. She wasn’t sure if it was wholly due to the pregnancy, or a result of that _and_ the thought of discussing things with Bucky. Either way it sucked. Darcy was totally over her first trimester, and she still had two months to go. Kill her now. She couldn’t believe she’d decided to keep the baby.

And she had. She _had_ decided that. Pretty much, anyway. 

It happened at three am the morning before when she was awake and hanging over the toilet, shaking with dry heaves. That probably didn’t seem like the best incentive for keeping a baby, but while Darcy was kneeling there, head resting wearily on her arms, she found herself chatting with her surprise womb occupant. 

“Okay, so, here’s the deal, Zygote,” she said out loud. “You stop making me barf in the middle of the night, and I’ll never make you wear one of those dumb novelty onesies that say stuff like ‘If you think I’m cute, you should see my mommy’. I promise. And I know you can’t answer me yet, so I’ll just take a lack of puking as your positive response.”

Miraculously, her stomach settled after that. She was relatively sure it had nothing to do with the impromptu conversation, but all of a sudden Darcy felt a connection to the baby. Plus, she’d made a promise. A promise that meant it would get to take up residence inside her for a full nine months.

God. Her life was so fucked.

So far, the baby was keeping up its end of the bargain. Darcy hadn’t woken up nauseous Sunday night, although she wasn’t sure how great that was, because now she was puking at random times during the day. Morning sickness was a complete misnomer. All the time sickness was more like it. She threw up before breakfast. Then again before lunch, and once more after lunch just for good measure. Clearly next time she and the zygote talked, they would need to hammer out a few more details of their agreement.

Finally she broke down and got a packet of crackers from the vending machine in the hall. Everyone said crackers were good for morning sickness, right? They were apparently magic or something. Two crackers in, and her stomach _did_ feel better. Five in, and all hell broke loose. She was never eating crackers again. Ever.

Meanwhile, her boss was waiting for her finish editing the most recent chapter of Wanda Maximoff’s new book. The publishing company Darcy worked at was fairly small...more of an indie organization really, but they’d been generating a big buzz in the industry lately, mostly due to some of the amazing up and coming authors they’d managed to snag. 

Darcy had an eye for spotting talent. When the original copy of Wanda’s first manuscript had crossed her desk, she gave it a cursory once over like she did with the rest. Ten minutes later, she was fully engrossed. It was a young adult novel about a teenage girl who discovers she has telekinetic powers, powers she has no idea how to control, which constantly land her in hot water.

Normally Darcy passed on stuff like that. Paranormal fantasy books were a dime a dozen at the moment, most of them were terrible, and she had zero time to spend on wannabe Stephenie Meyer imitators, but Wanda’s book was _amazing_. The protagonist was funny, and smart, and didn’t have all the answers. She messed up just as much as she got it right, which was damn refreshing. And all the side characters were totally fleshed out with cool stories of their own that melded seamlessly into the main theme of the novel. 

Not only was the book good, but it fit right in with the direction that Sleipnir Press was trying to go. Young, fun, off the beaten track, and a little edgy, the publishing company was carefully amassing a small host of authors who shared the same traits. So, when she came across Wanda’s manuscript, Darcy knew she’d found something special. She took it straight to the top, walking across the hall, and setting square in the center of Frigga Odinson’s desk.

“Found something good for me?” Frigga inquired, pulling the stack of papers closer, and slapping on a pair of reading glasses. For a few seconds she perused the manuscript while Darcy waited with growing excitement, then Frigga looked up with a brilliant smile. “We’re going to have a best seller with this, aren’t we?” she said.

Darcy smiled back. “Too early to say...but…”

“Not too early to say. Get this straight over to Loki, and I want the author…Wanda Maximoff is it? I want Ms. Maximoff in here for a meeting as soon as she’s available. Tell her we’re very interested in optioning her book, and any sequels she has planned. And Darcy? Good eye. I knew there was a reason I felt so compelled to hire you.”

Frigga had been right. The book was a hit. Wanda was currently on her third installment in the series, and Darcy was supposed to be editing it instead of running to the ladies room for the fourth time that day. 

“Listen,” she said to the zygote, digging around for the travel bottle of mouthwash she’d brought along in her purse, “I really appreciate you not making me puke in the middle of the night, but I’m trying to work here. Can we maybe add a caveat to our agreement?”

The only response was her stomach loudly gurgling. With a sigh, Darcy took a swig of mouthwash, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it into the sink. As she was trying to repair her smeared makeup in the mirror, Natasha breezed into the bathroom.

“Wow. You look terrible,” she said, setting her purse down next to Darcy’s on the shelf above the sinks. “This pregnancy thing is really fun, huh?”

“Oh totally,” Darcy replied. “I’m loving every nauseous second. It’s like being completely hungover, but it never goes away, and I didn’t even get a buzz into the deal.”

Natasha clucked her tongue. “So I hear. You know, I seem to remember when Jane was in her first trimester, she kept popping sour candies. Said it helped for the morning sickness.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten all about that. She had those preggo pops or whatever they’re called.”

“That’s right, preggo pops. I’m running out to grab lunch in a few minutes, want me to pick some up for you?”

At the mention of food, Darcy felt her stomach give a lurch. “Yes. Please. Anything that works at this point.”

“Have you told Jane yet?”

Darcy shook her head. “Nope. I figured Bucky should know before anyone else finds out.”

“That’s probably smart. Any further thoughts on whether you’re keeping it or not?” Nat asked.

“Well… The zygote and I sort of have...an agreement.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at her. “You have an agreement?” 

“Yeah.”

“I see.” Nat nodded. “And this agreement means you are keeping it?”

“Yes?”

“That doesn’t sound very sure.”

“We’re playing it by ear, but I’m keeping it,” Darcy replied. “I think.”

“And you’re telling Bucky tonight?”

“I am.”

“I don’t envy you that conversation. They got called out last night, and didn’t get home until six this morning. Single alarm. I texted Steve a little while ago, but he didn’t get back to me. I have a feeling they’re both still dead to the world.”

Steve and Bucky worked together as firefighters. That was actually how Natasha met him. Fearless Fire Company was doing a fundraiser at the local grocery store for a family who’d lost their home in a blaze. When Steve leaned into the car window to take Natasha’s donation, she was completely smitten. Steve must have been too, because he asked her out on the spot, and the rest was history.

“There was a fire last night?” Darcy asked. “Where?”

“You know that pizzeria on 17th? Valentina’s? Someone must have left an oven on overnight. The whole kitchen went up. Fortunately the neighbors caught it before it got really bad. I have no idea where we’ll be getting our calzones from now on. They made the best ones in town.” Nat winced apologetically as Darcy gagged at the mention of calzones. “Sorry. No more food talk. I swear it. Anyway, the boys were supposed to have the night off, but it was either come in, or Fearless would have had to ask another fire company to help out. You know how they are. They were both out the door before Steve had even hung up the phone.”

“I know how Steve is,” Darcy said. “Bucky not so much.”

“Well, that’s all going to change now. Isn’t it? Anyway, just imagine Steve, but with a sense of self-preservation, and you’ve pretty much got Bucky pegged.”

Darcy snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You must have gotten to know him a little bit, right? I mean, you guys were attached at the hip during the reception. You can’t tell me no talking went on.”

“Oh yeah, we talked. And drank. It was a multi-tasking kind of thing.”

“Well, just think, tonight you can try the talking thing again, but without the added alcohol.”

“You realize that’s not exactly comforting, right?” Darcy said.

“If you say so.” Natasha picked up her purse, and headed into a stall. “I think maybe a little sober communication is just what you two need.”

“Ugh.” Darcy grabbed her own purse so she could leave, pausing at the door to say, “Hey, don’t forget those lollipop things, okay? My stomach is counting on you, Romanoff.”

“Your stomach is in good hands,” Natasha called back. “I never forget anything. Like the fact that you have a four pm deadline on that chapter. Loki was all over my desk earlier complaining in that poshy British boarding school accent of his that he has that he hadn’t heard from you about it. I did my best to hold him off as long as I could, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was waiting when you get back.”

“Typical,” Darcy snorted. “Thanks for stalling him. I’ll finish up those last couple pages, and make sure he gets them.”

She did. Banging through the copy as quickly as possible to keep Loki at bay. Technically he was her immediate superior. Not only that, but he was also Frigga’s son, and he’d never quite forgiven Darcy for going over his head, and taking Wanda’s first book straight to his mother before running it by him first. 

They got along pretty well as long as she met all her deadlines, and didn’t make stupid mistakes. The only problem was that Loki considered just about any mistake a stupid one, which meant navigating interactions with him could be a bit of a minefield. At the moment they were on really good terms, and Darcy was trying to keep it that way.

Fortunately, he must have been busy elsewhere, because she managed to get her editing done without any interruptions. Not only that, but by some miracle he wasn’t there when she dropped it off on his desk. Once she was back in her ergonomic office chair, however, Darcy was left with nothing but a shitload of free time, and a head full anxiety.

Her conversation with Natasha had stirred up memories of what went down in Nevada six weeks prior. Memories that Darcy had been studiously trying to avoid, because they had a very bad habit of making her feel things she wasn’t ready to feel. And also because, yes, they were crazy embarrassing. What kind of person gets trashed enough to accept a proposal from a guy they've only just met at a friend’s wedding? Who DOES that? Oh. Right. _She_ does that, apparently, and then follows it up with screwing her new impulse buy fiancé all over his swanky Las Vegas hotel room. 

Darcy groaned, covering her eyes with her hands like that could stop the instant replay of the hotel room antics that her brain had decided to conjure up. How they even got to the whole engagement slash hotel sex thing was still a mystery to her. Darcy wasn’t lying to Clint when she told him she and Bucky had hated each other on sight. From the moment they met, it was nothing but continuous, antagonistic snarking. 

Bucky deserved it, too. First off, he missed his initial flight, showing up ten minutes into the wedding rehearsal, wearing jeans, black Converse Allstars, and a Megadeth t-shirt. Megadeth. Seriously. Every other guy in the wedding party was dressed appropriately for the occasion in polo shirts and khakis, and there was Bucky with Rust In Peace emblazoned across his chest. He was also obviously hungover judging by the Ray-Bans obscuring his eyes which he refused to take off. 

Darcy could have forgiven him for that. She really could, had he not sidled up next to her like he’d been there all along, lowering his shades long enough to give her a lingering once over. She just shot him a stony glare, and went back to listening to the woman officiant, who was telling them all where to stand. 

Of course he couldn’t leave it there. Oh no. He thought it would be a good idea to lean down and whisper in her ear, “Stevie didn’t tell me the Maid of Honor was such a dish. If he had, I would have made my first flight.”

“Really?” Darcy replied, giving him a sugary smile that didn’t come anywhere close to hitting her eyes. “If he had told me the Best Man was such a socially inept asshole, I would have stayed home. Incidentally, I think you’re meant to be standing over there on the groom’s side. Which just happens to be far, far away from me. Bonus, right?”

She couldn’t tell what effect her words had on Bucky due to the stupid sunglasses, but he immediately took her suggestion and ambled over to join the other groomsmen. It did get him out of her hair for the time being. So overall Darcy considered it a win.

There was no getting away from him completely, though. They were seated together at the rehearsal dinner, where he made a second attempt to charm her. It went about as well as the first one. 

“I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” he began, sunglasses now perched on his head so she could see his bright blue-grey eyes.

Darcy refused to be swayed no matter how pretty his eyes were, fixing him with a withering glance before replying, “That’s probably because it was in your mouth.”

“Wow. Are you always this hostile to new people you meet?”

“No, I save it just for guys like you.”

“Guys like me, huh?” Bucky’s eyebrows raised over the eyes which Darcy was absolutely, definitely not still thinking were pretty. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“The kind who can’t be bothered to get to their best friend’s wedding rehearsal on time, immediately hits on the first thing with legs he encounters once he get there, and is apparently unable to take a hint when she makes it perfectly clear that she’s not interested.”

“Actually you were the fifteenth thing with legs that I encountered after I got to the hotel. And the most attractive.”

Darcy lifted her wine glass, taking a large sip. “Oh well, that makes it all better. I’m honored. Really. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to sit at that table over there. Where you are not.”

It was quite an auspicious beginning, really. Somehow, despite hating each other at sight, it _did_ get better. Better enough that by the time Steve and Natasha were cutting the cake the next night at the reception, she and Bucky were sneaking out the back exit, and running down the Las Vegas strip hand in hand to the Eiffel Tower Experience. They’d also stolen a bottle of champagne. Darcy placed a lot of blame on champagne for what happened next.

She wasn’t going to lie. It was exhilarating racing along the fronts of the casinos with her hand firmly grasped in his. They laughed almost the whole way there, passing the bottle, which was enclosed in a white paper bag, back and forth between them. Darcy was pretty lit once the glassed in elevator reached the observation deck at the top, and Bucky wasn’t far behind. The two of them stood there, looking out at the bright lights below, and finishing off the champagne.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of her chignon behind her ear. 

Darcy leaned back against the safety railing, smiling up into his face. “Same. I’m sorry I called you a socially inept asshole yesterday.”

“I probably deserved it.”

“You did, but I’m still sorry.”

“Maybe I should make it up to you.” The lights, and the strip, and the people around them faded away into the background as Bucky moved closer, taking up Darcy’s vision with his sweet, boyish grin. “What do you say, Darcy Lewis? Ready to hear my apology?”

“Will the apology involve you putting your face on mine? Because, if so? I totally acce…”

His mouth captured hers mid-word, one arm sliding around her back to tug her flush with his chest. She could hear the paper crinkling around the bottle of champagne in his hand, and the soft exhalation of breath from Bucky as her lips parted beneath his. The sweet, heady flavor of the drink they’d been sharing was warm on his tongue, and Darcy wrapped both arms around his shoulders, letting her fingers curl into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was electrifying, and consuming, and what Darcy was quickly realizing was by far the best kiss she’d ever had...and she’d had a fair amount.

She felt like she could go on kissing him forever. For the rest of her life, if possible, so when Bucky finally pulled away, look on his face as dazed and full of wonder as hers, it was no surprise to Darcy that he said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

She looked up at him, blinked, and replied, “Me too.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “You know, when it’s right, it’s right. And this? This is right.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve never felt this way. Have you?”

“No. Never. Do you believe in soulmates?”

Nope. She didn’t. In fact, she’d been known to make fun of that very expression...loudly...on more than one occasion. Darcy was not a romantic, she was a realist. That kind of crap only existed in books. It did not show up in Las Vegas in the form of a cocky, smartass firefighter wearing a Megadeth t-shirt and Ray-Bans. 

Which is why it was completely out of character for her when she gazed up at him limpidly, and said, “Totally.”

God. She was really drunk. That had to be it. Champagne was a sneaky fucker. She was never drinking it again.

“Wait right here,” Bucky said, pushing the bottle into her hands. “I’ll be right back.” He got to the elevator, turned around, and yelled, “Don’t go anywhere! I love you!”

“I love you too!” she shouted back, cradling the champagne to her chest.

“Stay right there! I won’t be long.”

“Okay!”

They waved at each other until the elevator moved out of sight, and then Darcy turned to face the city below her, drinking from the bottle and breaking into happy giggles between sips. 

About fifteen minutes later there was a tap on her shoulder, and she spun around to find Bucky standing there with a somewhat tipsy, hopeful grin. The moment she was facing him, he dropped to one knee, holding up a little black box. “Marry me,” he said.

“Oh my God.” Darcy promptly clutched at the rail behind her to steady herself.

Nervousness started to overtake the hope on his face. “Was that an ‘oh my God’, yes? Or an ‘oh my God’, no?”

She said champagne was a fucker, right? She said that? It was the only reasonable explanation for what happened next, because Darcy let go of the rail to cover her mouth with both hands, nodded, and whispered, “Yes!”

“Yes?” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Screw that. His whole _face_ lit up, eclipsing even the bright neon on the strip. Darcy was pretty sure she’d never seen anything as beautiful in her entire existence. All of a sudden tears started to prickle at the corners of her eyes.

“Yes,” she repeated, holding out her hand. “I will.”

Then he cracked the box open, and they both started laughing. The ring was just...well…

“I know,” he said. “It’s all they had in the gift shop downstairs.”

“It’s perfect,” Darcy told him. “I love it. Nobody else back home will have one.”

The moment he got it on her finger, loud applause broke out all around them from the other tourists on the observation deck. Darcy blushed, staring down at the sparkling Eiffel Tower displayed prominently on her left hand. Bucky ducked his head, smiling hugely, and then reeled her in for another kiss that brought on whistles and cheers.

It was a dream proposal. Except for the hideous ring, and the fact that she’d only met him the day before, but Darcy decided those were small details in the wider scheme of things. Cham-fucking-pagne. Never. Again.

They ran back to the reception, where yes, she actually did stand up on a table and announce their engagement to everyone. She’d be apologizing to Nat for stealing her thunder for the rest of their lives, probably. Maybe Darcy could buy her a second wedding gift or something to make up for it.

After the reception she and Bucky ended up in his room. If Darcy thought the kiss was the best she’d ever had, it was nothing to the sex.

“Does it bother you that this is incredibly cliché?” she asked as they were ripping each other’s clothes off.

“What’s cliché?” he murmured distractedly, teeth grazing her earlobe.

“The Maid of Honor and the Best Man hooking up.”

“Darcy, we’re engaged,” Bucky said.

“Oh, right.” She sighed in relief. “Awesome. How fast can you get your pants off?”

“Not fast enough,” he replied, tossing her bridesmaid gown across the room where it landed on a lamp. “Oh hey, do we uh...need…”

“Nope.” She worked the row of buttons on the front of his shirt open, and pushed it off his shoulders. “I’m on the pill, and we’re getting married. Pretty sure we’re good.”

Darcy shook her head, coming back to the present with a groan. Famous last words, right? She looked down at her still-flat stomach, and dropped her head onto her desk.

“Fuck my life,” she muttered. “And champagne, and faulty birth control.”

“That’s quite a list.”

She looked up to see Natasha standing in front of her desk with a wry smile, holding out a bag of sour lollipops. 

“You are a saint,” Darcy said, taking the bag and ripping it open.

“Funny, Steve usually calls me just the opposite.”

“Yeah well, Steve is wrong. Mmm, is this mango? And ginger? In one lollipop? I love you.”

For once the internet was right. Sour flavors really did help with queasiness. Darcy worked her way through the bag of lollipops as she started editing the next chapter of Wanda’s book. The rest of day passed more quickly, although she continued to struggle with keeping her mind off of Bucky, Las Vegas, and the conversation they were going to have later.

Four o’clock rolled around sooner than she expected. Her co-workers began to leave, streaming past her desk while they shrugged into their coats. Darcy finished up the page she was on, placed it back in the stack, and carefully set the whole thing inside a desk drawer which she then locked. That done, she picked up her keys, threw on her jacket, and went home to inform a man she’d spent a single night with that the bun in her oven was his.

Darcy tried to come up with ways to tell him on her drive home. None of them sounded right, and the more she thought of, the less right they sounded. By the time she unlocked her apartment door and went inside, she was starting to panic again. 

“I can do this. I can do this,” she muttered to herself while pulling a bottled water out of the fridge. “Just pretend he’s a head of cabbage or whatever.”

She was still working out how one would explain to a head of cabbage that it was about to be a parent, when there was a knock on her door. Darcy wiped her damp palms on her jeans, took a fortifying sip of water, and went to answer it.

Bucky was standing in the hall, looking anxious as hell, with a fat bunch of stargazer lilies in his hands. The second the cloying scent crossed the threshold and hit Darcy’s nose, her stomach went into an outright revolt.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, and made a mad dash for the bathroom to prevent vomiting straight on his shoes.

Seconds later she felt his hands carefully pulling her hair away from her neck as she deposited all the water she’d just consumed into the toilet.

“Jesus, doll. You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome. Are you sick?” Bucky asked in a voice full of worry.

The scent of stargazer lilies wafted over to assault her again, and Darcy’s stomach roiled in response. Oh for fucksake. He’d brought the vile flowers with him. 

“Out!” she ordered, pointing at the door.

She meant him _and_ the flowers, but Bucky either didn’t understand, or misunderstood on purpose, because he picked the flowers up from where he’d set them on the vanity, and hurled them out into the hallway. Then he kicked the door shut behind them.

“That better?” he asked.

“Yes. No. I meant you,” she replied. “ _You_ out.”

“Not a chance,” Bucky argued. “No way I'm gonna leave you all alone in here tossing your cookies.”

“You can’t be in here, okay? Please. I don’t want you to see this.”

“See what? You being sick? It’s not a big deal, Darcy. I’ve seen a lot worse than a little bout of food poisoning in my day.”

“It’s not food poisoning,” she said. “Just...please.”

“Stomach flu, then.” He crouched down next to her _still_ holding her goddamn hair like this was a thing that they did on a regular basis.

“It’s not the stomach flu either, all right? And I can’t...I cannot do this right now. I just can’t. Not like this, with you in here, holding my hair and being all sweet for no reason after I was a complete asshole to you in Las Vegas, while I’m barfing my guts up because I’m carrying your baby!”

Bucky froze. He stared at her, expression utterly blank. “While you’re carrying my…what?”

Well. Shit. Maybe she could crawl underneath the magazine rack in the corner and die. It would definitely be less traumatic than repeating what she’d just said to him. 

“Darcy?”

She glanced up at him then, wide, scared eyes meeting his stunned gaze head on. This was so not how she wanted to tell him, but it was too late now.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips. “I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”


	3. Rule-breakers Anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Darcy work out a few ground rules...and then fail hard when it comes to following them. (or at least the first one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooooooooooo. I don't want to give too much away here...but, um...this might not be a chapter to read at work. ;D
> 
> ***************************************************

Of all the things Bucky had been expecting to discuss when he arrived at Darcy’s apartment, this...her being pregnant...was definitely not one of them. 

She was pregnant.

Darcy was....

It was his. _His_ baby. Christ.

She seemed to be done throwing up, but her pale face was still slightly green around the edges, and her big blue eyes were filled with tension and fear. Bucky needed to say something, _anything_ , but his brain was still trying to process the fact that she was carrying his baby. So he remained mute as the uncomfortable silence between them grew and thickened until he could have sliced it with a knife.

“You can stop holding my hair now,” she finally said in a tired voice. “I’m pretty sure the zygote is done torturing me for the time being.”

He gently released her hair and stood up, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Darcy… I... What you said, about...about…”

“Yeah I know. It’s a lot to take in. Just...why don’t you go out into the living room, and I’ll get cleaned up, and meet you in a couple minutes, okay? And, um, can you get rid of the flowers? I appreciate the thought, but as you can see, the smell is pissing off the baby.”

“Sure. I’ll take them outside. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m going to splash some water on my face, and brush my teeth, Bucky. I can handle that without assistance, but thanks.”

“Right. Okay.” He nodded once and headed for the door. 

Once outside in the hall, Bucky scooped up the flowers, and left to dump them in the garbage bins outside. When he entered her apartment again, he could hear the quiet trickle of water running in the bathroom. Darcy came out a few moments later. She padded down the hall, and paused in the entrance to the living room.

“Sit,” she said, waving at one of the mismatched armchairs that were turned to face the couch. 

He sat, warily watching as Darcy curled into a corner of the couch and pulled a throw pillow into her lap. It appeared the she wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation, because instead of speaking she plucked at a the decorative fringe running along the side of the pillow.

Bucky swallowed twice, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth where it had lodged itself after she informed him that she was pregnant with his child. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure?”

It might not have been the best thing to say. He knew that even before she glanced up at him with look of defensive irritation. 

“Am I sure if I’m pregnant, or am I sure if it’s yours?” she snapped.

“No...not...not the second,” Bucky stammered. “I’m sorry. This is the first time I’ve ever been in this situation, and I’m not really sure what I’m saying right now. It came out wrong. I wasn't trying to imply anything. I swear it.”

Darcy held her hand up, cutting him off. “Yes. To both questions. Yes I’m pregnant, and yes it’s yours. There wasn’t anyone else. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I don’t usually make a habit of accepting proposals, and jumping into bed with guys I’ve just met at friend’s weddings. And even if I _did_ do that, normally I’d vote a solid yes on a second form of birth control.” 

“So your pill…”

“Failed,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ve already written them a very strongly worded letter from my fake attorneys threatening a lawsuit.”

Bucky felt the corner of his mouth start to twitch. “Fake attorneys, huh?”

“Yeah. I threatened them with the death penalty if they don’t send me a two year supply of diapers and Gerbers.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” he replied.

“Eh. I wasn’t really expecting to get anything out of it anyway. Apparently there’s a whole clause about antibiotics nullifying their magical anti-baby properties that I didn’t bother to read when I started taking them.”

“Antibiotics?”

“I had a respiratory infection the week before the wedding. The meds I took to fix it fucked with my birth control.”

“Ah.” 

“Yep.”

Another long moment was spent with just the two of them watching each other across her Ikea coffee table, and then he said, “Does the two year supply of diapers and Gerbers mean that you’re keeping the baby?”

Bucky was trying very hard to keep his tone light. It was a strain, though. He knew the decision was Darcy’s and Darcy’s alone, but from the moment it had clicked in his head that the baby she was carrying was his, he felt this odd little spark of hope that maybe the universe was trying to give them a second chance. It might not have sounded like the most rational thing, but Bucky wasn’t someone to overlook signs like that. They had a connection. He knew they did, and he knew she’d felt it too.

She scrubbed her hands over her face before answering. “I think so? I don’t know. This is all really, really complicated, and I’m not sure of what I’m doing, and…” Her voice broke, chin wobbling as she let out a shaky sniff. “I’m so sorry. I don't usually fall apart like this, but none of it is playing out the way I rehearsed it in my head, and the hormones aren’t helping either. I sobbed over a commercial for dog food this morning. _Dog food_. I’ve turned into a girl who cries over proper pet nutrition, and I don’t even own a dog. If that isn't pathetic, I don’t know what is.”

Darcy hiccuped, ducking her head so it was hidden in the pillow. Without even thinking about the ramifications, Bucky left the safety of his armchair to step over the coffee table and slide onto the couch next to her so he could pull her into his arms. To his surprise, she burrowed into his chest, head lodged firmly under his chin. 

When Bucky was just a kid, his grandad had told him there were three important things to remember when he was a man. Never let the sun go down without resolving a fight, never leave a woman crying if he could make it better, and always carry a clean handkerchief in his back pocket. The third piece of advice was directly related to the second...and sometimes it also came in handy for the first. He dug into his pocket, pulled the white square of fabric free, and gave it to her.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, rubbing circles on her back with his hand as she continued to cry. “Darcy? It really is. Dog food commercials wreck me too. Honest.”

“No they don’t,” she mumbled into his chest. Then she withdrew her head from his now damp t-shirt and dabbed at her tear-stained face with the handkerchief. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does if you know that I lost my Boxer six weeks ago to bone cancer.”

“What? Really?”

“You never asked me why I was late to Steve’s wedding. The truth is I missed my flight because I was at the vet’s saying goodbye to the best damn dog I ever had,” he said. “That’s what the sunglasses were about. I spent most of the flight bawling like a little kid over it.”

Her eyes started welling up with tears again. “Oh my god, Bucky. That is just...it’s so sad. You had a dog. And he died, and I was so horrible to you when we met. I’m really sorry.”

“Me too. Dugan was a good boy.”

She looked up at him, sniffling loudly. “His name was Dugan?”

“Yeah, I usually called him Dug, but Stevie nicknamed him Dum Dum. He was always ragging on him for being a little thick in the head. Which he was.”

“Who, Steve or the dog?” Darcy asked.

Bucky grinned. “Now that’s the million dollar question, right? But yeah. Dog food commercials are getting me lately too. So maybe we can watch them and cry together.”

“Worst date ever,” she declared in a watery voice.

“I dunno about that. They say misery loves company, right? Besides, I’d kind of rather be sad with you, than happy someplace else. If you want me here that is.”

Darcy sat back against the couch, frowning. “Why are you being so nice? I was shitty to you in Vegas. I left you without saying goodbye, and now I’m like ‘Surprise! We’re having a baby!’. None of that can be easy for you.”

“It’s not easy, but maybe I understand why you left me in Vegas. Neither of us was really thinking straight that night.”

“No. We weren’t.”

“Also, maybe, just maybe I really like you. Have you considered that?”

“I have. It’s kind of nuts considering what I did.”

“Believe me, that thought has crossed my mind more than once,” Bucky agreed. “Doesn’t change how I feel, though.”

“How _do_ you feel? I mean, we said some things that night...and did some things. Stuff I have feeling we wouldn’t have said and done without the copious amounts of Moët.”

“Are you possibly referring to the world’s shortest engagement?” he asked.

“That, and the whole part where we discussed being soulmates, and, you know, when I said I loved you, which was after you said it.” She shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes. “I just wanted to clarify, for the record, you said it first.”

“You remember that, huh?” He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “Yeah. We might have been a little premature there, I’ll give you that. But it doesn’t mean we didn’t have something special.”

“You still think that?”

“I’ve been living on my best friend’s couch in the hopes that you might stop by to see Natasha, just so I would get another chance to talk to you. Does that answer your question?”

Darcy snorted. “That’s a little creepy, actually.”

“In my defense, you’re the first girl I’ve ever been creepy over,” Bucky said. 

“Stop making creepy sound romantic, you weirdo.” She smacked him in the chest with the pillow she’d been holding, and he smiled.

“You just called it romantic, so I’m thinking it might be working.”

“Unfortunately you have no witnesses to my saying that, which means it’s basically your word against mine at this point.”

Bucky glanced slyly at her. “Hey, I know what I know, and I know you said it. That’s what counts to me.”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here knocked up, arguing over whether or not you crashing on Steve’s couch for over a month in a misguided attempt to see me again is romantic or creepy,” Darcy said.

“I thought we just decided it was both.”

“I’m pregnant,” she reiterated. “Like, right now. With your baby.”

He nodded. “I did catch that. It was a little hard to miss. So, uh...what does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. What does it mean for us?”

This was it. Bucky’s opening to try for another shot with her. He took a deep breath, searching for the right words to say. “I’d like for us to get to know each other. Date. Go out. Whatever you want to call it. See if we can’t make things work.”

She blinked. “You really _are_ crazy, aren’t you? How are you not freaking out more?”

“I walk into burning buildings for a living,” he replied. “Calm under pressure sort of comes with the territory. Doesn’t mean I’m not crazy though. Because I _do_ walk into burning buildings for a living. Anyone who does that has to be at least a little crazy, right?”

The frank assessment of his mental state actually startled a laugh out of her, and Bucky tilted his head, enjoying the fact that they were finally both smiling at each other again. It was possible that he’d somehow convinced Darcy to give him another chance. If that was the case, he was damn well going to make the most of it.

“That’s hot,” she said. “Do you get it? Because...fires.”

Jesus. She made worse puns than his father did. He was already halfway in love with her, and she was only making it harder to keep his feelings in check. “Did you just make a firefighter joke?”

“Don’t look at me, that was the baby,” she responded. “I don’t know anything about firefighters. Not yet, anyway.”

The ‘not yet’ flooded him with hope. “Lucky for you, I happen to know one who’d be happy to fill you in on any questions you might have, if you’re interested,” he said.

Darcy leaned back against the couch. “Do you?”

“Yep. It comes with a catch, though.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the catch?”

“You’d have to spend time with him. Maybe go out to dinner once in awhile, or catch a movie together. Possibly pick out a stroller, and one of those little things that hang over a crib. What do you say, doll?”

He could tell she was starting to cave. One hand fluttered near her stomach for a moment, before settling down low over where Bucky imagined their baby must be. The thought made his lungs hitch. It was scary, but not bad scary. More like that moment before he entered a fire, full of exhilaration and nerves. 

“Okay,” Darcy finally said. 

Bucky’s heart leapt. “Yeah?”

“We can...date...whatever, see if it works,” she offered, “but there are definitely going to be some ground rules.”

Rules. Fine. He could handle rules. “Like what?”

“Give me a sec, I want to find some paper and a pen.” Darcy got up, walking into her kitchen so she could rummage through one of the drawers. 

Bucky couldn’t believe it. She wanted to write them down? Was she kidding him right now? Just how many rules were there?

She came back with two sheets of lined notebook paper, and a red ballpoint pen. “Sorry,” she said. “Almost all my pens are red because of my job. I tend to bring work home a lot.”

“It’s fine,” he told her, watching as she wrote _Relationship Rules_ in big block letters in the top margin.

“Number one,” Darcy began. “No sex.”

No _what_? Bucky swallowed heavily. 

“At least not until we get to know each other better, okay?” she continued. “I mean, having sex too soon is what got us into this whole mess anyway. We’re gonna take it slow from now on. Figure things out as they come. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Sure. No sex.” He wasn’t a fan of this rule already, but it made sense. He just hoped the rest weren’t as disappointing.

“Number two, you get off Steve’s couch.”

“Done,” he said immediately. “What’s next?”

“Number three, you come to the OBGYN appointments unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

“I can do that, as long as you really want me there.”

“Well, I think you should be a part of it, right?” Darcy looked over at him, chewing her bottom lip for a moment. “The baby is both of ours. I don’t want to shut you out of that part of things.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Bucky assured her.

“Good. Um, Number four, we split the baby costs down the middle. Except maternity clothes. I can pay for those.”

“I can help with that too if you want.”

“No. I’ve got it. If you paid for my clothes it would just feel weird. Number five, no stargazer lilies…ever. We saw how well that went, and I’m not interested in testing it again.”

“Noted,” he replied. 

“Number six, we spend at least two nights a week together.”

“Three,” Bucky bargained.

“Three?”

“I’d rather more, but I’ll settle for three,” he said firmly.

Darcy crossed out ‘two’ and wrote ‘three, with option for more’ next to it. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Just one. We never let the sun go down on an argument.”

She looked at him carefully for a few seconds. “That’s a good rule.”

“It’s one of my grandad’s. He and my nan have been married for fifty-seven years.”

“Wow. Life goals, huh?” she said.

Bucky nodded slowly. “I hope so. That’s the plan, anyway.”

A slight blush stained her cheeks, and she looked away quickly to write down the rule.

“I have one more,” Darcy said. “Number eight, if for any reason either of us feels like this isn’t working, that person can break it off without hostilities, and the other person will respect that so we can co-parent amicably.”

Bucky squared his jaw. That rule was never coming into play if he could help it. “Sounds fair.”

“Good. Okay. I’ll make you a copy too.” Darcy copied their rules onto the second sheet of paper, folded it in half, and gave it to him. “There you go.”

He folded it again, and shoved it into his pocket. “What now?”

“Oh. Well, I was actually kind of tired. It's been a long, stressful, weird day.”

“Of course.” Bucky stood up. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about that. I’ll uh...I’ll go. Let you get your rest.”

Darcy got up too, walking over to the door with him. “Thanks for being so great about stuff,” she said, sliding the bolt free, and turning the lock. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that, Darcy.”

“I know, but a lot of guys probably wouldn’t be the way you are, that’s all.”

“Then those guys are chumps. I was raised to look out for my responsibilities.”

She halted in opening the door, expression suddenly guarded. “I see. Is that all you’re doing? Looking out for your responsibilities?”

Bucky looked down at her. “No. If that was all I was doing, our entire conversation would have been about finances, and support. In case you haven’t noticed, Darce, I’m what my grandad would’ve called sweet on you.”

He knew it was a bit of gamble telling her that. There was a fine line to walk between hinting at how he felt, and coming on too strong. This was probably pushing that line pretty hard, but it was also honest. Bucky hoped that honesty counted for something.

Clearly it did, because he was rewarded with a warm press of her lips against his in a fleeting kiss. His eyes widened with shock for just a moment, and then her lips were back. This time they moved against his with more urgency. Bucky had just enough time to wind his arms around her back, before Darcy was slamming the door shut, and tugging him back into her living room.

“Not for nothing,” she said, when she’d pulled back long enough for them to catch their breath, “but you are seriously the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

“Am I?” Bucky asked, still reeling from her abruptly switching gears. 

“Yes. It’s not just kissing either. You’re kind of amazing at other stuff too.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He dipped his head over hers again, seeking her mouth out, and groaned when her lips parted, and her tongue flicked over his.

The whole time she was still walking backwards, taking him along with her as she bypassed the couch and led him straight down the hall.

“I thought you were gonna sleep,” Bucky said, hoping against hope that she’d changed her mind.

“Yeah well, pregnant women are known to be unpredictable,” Darcy replied. “Now I want sex.”

Bucky came to an abrupt stop. “What about rule number one?” he asked.

“Screw rule number one,” she declared. “I just decided that list doesn’t go into effect until midnight tonight.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he said, hoisting her into his arms, and loving the eager way she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Which door is your bedroom.”

“End of the hall.”

He headed where she directed, pushing the door open, and lowering her onto the bed. Darcy whipped her shirt off, and shimmied out of her pants and underwear in one go, throwing both over the side of the bed, before reaching back to undo her bra and sending it to join them. Bucky found himself knocked flat once again by the shape of her body. He’d been attracted to her the instant he saw her standing with the rest of the wedding party in Las Vegas. She was like a Gil Elvgren pinup come to life, lush curves and soft, sloping planes in all the right places. 

For a brief moment, he pictured her with a new curve, one that contained his child, and his throat went dry. Maybe it was caveman of him, but he couldn’t deny that the idea held a lot of appeal. She made a small, impatient movement, and Bucky realized he’d probably been standing there staring at her for a little bit too long. He crawled on top of her, hissing through his teeth when she slid her hand into his jeans and cupped him through his boxer briefs. It felt good, but at the moment things were kind of a tight fit in there. Bucky got his hand between them to undo his button and zip.

“Giving me more room to maneuver?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Something like that. _Fuck_ , Darcy.”

Her fingers had slipped inside the opening on the front, and the sensation of them grazing the sensitive head of his dick was driving him crazy. He ground into her hand, biting his lip as his forehead touched hers. She continued with the teasing little touches, catching hold of the shaft and working him through thin cotton knit.

“I had hoped my memories of this weren’t all champagne related,” she said.

Bucky’s eyes closed as her hand squeezed and stroked. “That a compliment, doll, or do I have something to worry about?”

“You have nothing to worry about, trust me.” 

“Same with you,” he said, opening his eyes. “If anything, you’re better than I remembered.”

“Am I?”

“Why do you think I’m so worked up?”

“Well, I do have my hand in your pants.”

He chuckled hoarsely. “That doesn’t hurt, but I was like this the minute you pulled me back into your apartment. His hips rolled, thrusting into her hand. She twisted her wrist on the upstroke, and he gave a soft grunt. “God, Darce, you’re killing me. I love it, but you’ve got me on the edge here already.”

“I’m really wrecking you that fast?” She gazed up at him, wicked little smile on her lips. 

“What can I say? You’ve got a talent for it.”

“And what do you have a talent for, Bucky Barnes?”

Leaning down so his lips were hovering just over hers, he grinned and murmured, “Oh doll, I thought you’d never ask.”

She lifted her head to kiss him, but he dodged, lips landing on the corner of her mouth instead of where she wanted them. From there he laid a trail of lazy kisses along the line of her jaw and neck. By the time he got to the twin swells of her breasts, her chest was rising and falling in short, tight breaths. 

Bucky braced himself on left arm, so he could play with the nipple of one breast while he took the other in his mouth. Darcy gasped, body curving up off the bed as his teeth scraped over the sensitive flesh. He switched sides, lavishing attention on her other breast, and she let out a shaky little moan that practically had him rutting into her palm.

It was too much. Bucky reached down, closing his hand around hers. 

“I’m not gonna hold out much longer,” he said. “Not like this. And I want to make you feel good, Darcy. Christ, I want that so much. Let me. Please?”

Her eyes met his, heavy lidded now, and dark with desire, and she nodded. Bucky released his grip, letting out a nearly audible sigh of relief as she took her hand away. Even so, it was all he could do to keep from begging her to put it back. To distract himself, he moved down her body, raining open-mouthed kisses in a scattered pattern on her skin. He started with one just beneath her breasts, then several more on her ribs and belly. When he got to her hips, he slowed, taking her thighs in his hands, and gently spreading her legs so his shoulders could settle between them. He began to kiss them as well, mouthing the delicate skin.

They were the trembling by the time his lips pressed to her clit. She sucked in a sharp breath, chest hitching under his splayed fingers. Bucky looked up at her, and smirked. Then, still watching her, he ducked his head down again, and swirled his tongue over the little nub. 

“Asshole,” she whispered, and his smirk grew.

“You say that _now_. Give me a few minutes here. I think maybe I can change your mind.”

Darcy’s huffing laugh of response was cut off by him licking over her again. It wasn’t long before the only sounds she was making were gasps and moans. Bucky used his tongue and fingers to draw them out, trying to find just the right thing to take her apart. Finally he closed his mouth around her, sucking on her clit until her hips lifted off the bed. She was close, he could sense it in the way her muscles were rippling around the two fingers he had inside, and he worked harder to bring her over that edge. He loved hearing the quick intake of breath as her release began, the way she pulled him closer with her fingers tight in his hair, and the broken cry of pleasure that ended his name as she finished. There a power in the way she surrendered and let go that made him want to hold here there as long as possible. In that moment Bucky felt like she was all his. 

Before her body had even stilled its rocking, Darcy was encouraging him to move back up on top of her. He obeyed, kicking off his shoes, and helping her to shove his jeans down his legs at the same time. 

“This too.” She plucked at his shirt, and Bucky grabbed the collar, stripping it off over his head. 

The moment he was free of it, she pulled him down for a kiss. Her sweet little tongue moved hot and restless in his mouth as he slotted himself between her thighs. She didn’t wait for him to take control, just reached down and grasped his cock in her hand, rolling her hips up so she could tease it along her slick, wet folds. 

“You just gonna play with that, or actually put it to use,” he asked, glancing down to watch her rub the leaking head over her clit.

“You know, for a guy who is getting laid right now, you’ve kind of got an attitude,” Darcy retorted, grinning at him. “Somebody ought to teach you some manners.”

“That somebody you, doll?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah?” He ghosted his lips over hers. “So do it.”

“After,” she said, and rolled her hips again so he was lined up with her entrance. “We’ll put it on the list. Bucky Barnes works on his… Oh my _God_...” 

Her sentence trailed off as he pushed forward into her, not stopping until they were completely joined.

“You were saying?” he asked.

“Cocky. So cocky. We’re going to work on that too.”

“Mmm, are we?”

“We are, but right now I’m going to make your ego worse, because holy fuck, you feel so good.”

“Not as good as you do.”

“Debatable,” Darcy replied. “But I’ll let that argument slide.”

“Good. I’ve got some better uses for that mouth of yours.”

“Same,” she said, and lifted her head up to kiss him again.

He began to thrust inside her, relishing the sounds she made on every stroke, and the way her hands traveled over his body as they moved together. It was like she couldn’t get enough of touching him. As for Bucky, he couldn’t get enough of watching her. She was spread out beneath him, lips parted and a rosy flush warming her cheeks and neck while her fingertips skimmed across his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes as they traced down his arms, then back up again. 

It was something he’d missed in Las Vegas. They had both been frantic when they staggered back into his hotel room. Fingers fumbling just long enough to get the necessary clothes out of the way, they’d barely made it inside before he was fucking her up against the nearest wall. Not that Bucky minded. But this? This was what he liked best.

In fact, maybe he liked it a little _too_ much. Darcy did something with her hips, canting them in just the right way, and he felt that familiar tightening low down in his belly. He had a breathless second where he tried to stave it off, but there was no stopping. With a sharp groan, Bucky dropped his head into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, riding out his orgasm with his lips muffled against her skin.

If Darcy minded him not holding out for her to come first, she didn’t act like it. She just enfolded him in her arms, fingers still drifting over his body in feather light patterns. Finally Bucky lifted his head, withdrawing from her, and rolling to the side. He settled on the pillow, and then turned to face her. 

“So that happened,” she said, meeting his eyes with one brow arched.

“It did,” he answered. “I...ah… When I came over, I wasn’t planning to…”

“Me neither.” 

“Right.”

She rolled over on her back to stare at the ceiling. “Sticking to the rules is apparently not our forte.”

“You told me they didn’t go into effect until midnight,” Bucky replied.

“I lied,” Darcy said. Then she felt around the side of the bed for a moment, retrieving his shirt, and tugging it on to cover herself. “I’ll be right back.” 

The shirt only reached midway to her thighs, something Bucky found he truly appreciated when she was walking out of the room. Left on his own in her bed, he wasn’t sure what the protocol was. Should he get up? Was it assumed that he’d be sleeping over? Darcy was wearing his shirt, but the rest of his clothes were right there on her floor, and her taking it might have been for convenience only. At the moment her response to them sleeping together was hard to read. It wasn’t like she’d asked him to stay the night. 

But what if she wanted him to stay?

In the end, Bucky decided to get dressed. It felt weird to just lounge on her bed waiting for her to come back without knowing where her head was at. He was just zipping his jeans when he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. She had a thin, yellow robe on, and was carrying his shirt in her hands. 

“Here,” she said, holding it out to him.

Wordlessly, Bucky took it from her, and put it on. “So...uh, what happens now?”

“Now I walk you to the door,” she replied. “For the second time tonight.

“Okay.” He ruffled one hand through his hair uncertainly. “Okay.”

And she did just that. Bucky could hear the list of rules crinkling in his pocket with every step. 

Darcy waited until he was out in the hall, and she had the door two thirds shut, before leaning in the frame and saying, “We can’t do this again. The whole falling into bed together thing. I’ll accept the blame for tonight, but it can’t keep happening Bucky. All it’s going to do is complicate things, and things are already complicated enough as it is.”

He nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what we agreed on,” she corrected. “Both of us. Rule number one, right?”

“Yeah. Rule number one.”

“Good.” She sighed, pressing her lips together in a faint smile. “Drive safely, alright? I’ll text you or something tomorrow. Goodnight.”

She stepped back, closing the door the rest of the way with a soft click. Bucky stood on the other side, trying to figure out what had just happened. He traced one finger down the door, and dropped his forehead onto it with a muted thud, before letting out a heavy exhale.

What he couldn’t see was Darcy slumped on the opposite side, head pillowed on her arms, and shoulders shaking with sobs.


	4. Lizzie and the Pirate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy works on her avoidance skills, Bucky works on his literary skills, and the zygote reneges on a bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!! :D So, last week was crazy, crazy, crazy for me. Family stuff all over the place. That's why this didn't get posted. I just got caught up in the past couple days, and this chapter was getting loooooooong. Like, way too long. I finally decided to break it up a little. Otherwise everyone might have been waiting for an update for the rest of this week as well. That means this chapter is a little bit on the short side, but it has some explanations for things in it. I hope that makes up for the brevity. <3 <3 <3
> 
> *********************************************************************

Darcy was having an incredibly bad Friday night. Not only was the deal with zygote apparently off, she’d thrown up twice already since eleven pm, but she couldn’t help going over and over the conversation she’d had with Bucky on Monday in her mind. 

Well, she _said_ conversation. What she really meant was sex. She kept going over the sex. The really amazing, really addictive sex. Not that the discussion about the baby wasn't figuring in heavily too, but the way he’d made her feel afterwards? Yeah, let’s just say she was extremely conflicted, and had been all week. The problem was that it was clearly more than just a fuck. It was for her, and she was sure it was for him...or at least she hoped it was. It had to be, right? The emotional connection between them was hard to deny. 

The thing he’d said about wanting to make her feel good… What Darcy hadn’t told Bucky was that he _did_ make her feel good. Not just in bed either, and she was scared shitless by that, which is why she hadn’t texted him yet even though she said she would. A whole work week spent avoiding him, and her feelings. Well, avoiding her feelings until the middle of the night it would seem. Then they came rushing back with a vengeance and brought their buddy nausea along with them for company. 

She wanted no part of the feelings yet. It was far too easy to get used to them, and depend on them. What if she did that, and he changed his mind? It wouldn’t be the first time a person had said they were all in, and then took it back when things got rough or went uphill. Darcy’s mother, Eden, was a prime example. Eden hadn't seen her daughter in over seven years, and that was for a fleeting visit where Darcy had ended up storming out of the restaurant where they were eating after her mother had tried to convince her that abandoning Darcy and her father been a positive thing for all concerned. She'd refused to speak to Eden since. The last Darcy heard, her mother was living on yet another artist’s colony somewhere in New Mexico. God only knew where she was at this point, though. Knowing Eden, she’d finally met up with those aliens she insisted were real, and had moved off-planet.

Eden wasn’t even her real fucking name. It was Janice. Janice Peyton Lewis. The name on Darcy’s birth certificate sounded like a mother. Sadly, it was one of the first things that had changed when Eden decided being a mother just wasn’t for her.

Almost nobody in her circle of friends knew about any of this. Clint did, but only because he’d met Eden prior to her defecting from Darcy’s life. He’d been there for Darcy, quiet and comforting in the confusing days afterwards, when she moved into the tree house in her backyard, dragging along her bedding, a suitcase full of fruit roll ups and goldfish crackers, and a pair of binoculars. The only times she went back into the house were to use the bathroom and steal more food from the pantry. 

Her father barely noticed Darcy wasn’t around. He was too distracted, and depressed by Eden walking out on them. Clint was the support he wasn’t. They would sit on the edge of the treehouse, legs hanging down, and share whatever food Darcy had scavenged while she kept watch for any sign of her mother with the binoculars. 

It wasn’t the first time Eden had disappeared, but it turned out to be the first time she didn’t show up again acting like nothing had happened. Darcy had never forgotten it, and she never forgave her mother for it either. That summer was the end of a lot of things for her. Trust. Innocence. A previously carefree childhood completely killed in one fell swoop. She often wondered if part of her was always going to feel like that little girl, sitting in a tree, slowly losing faith in a parent who was never going to come back.

“Don’t worry, zygote,” Darcy remarked, letting her hand rest over the slight swelling just above her pubic bone, “I promise I will never change my name, and run off to an artist colony with a guy called something like Sky Breeze when things get tough. I’ll will not bail on you. You have my word. Now maybe you could keep your promise about the barfing, because it’s getting really old.”

The zygote didn’t respond. With a sigh, Darcy rolled over to face the clock on her nightstand. Almost two in the morning, and she’d gotten zero sleep so far. Her phone was next to the clock, screen glinting dimly where the light from the digital numbers were reflected. She was hit with an irrational urge to text Bucky. It was stupid. And needy. And a Very Bad Idea, because she’d managed to not text him all week, and why break her perfect streak of non-communication, right? 

She flopped back onto her other side with a grumpy sound of frustration. Fuck, she was exhausted. The constant whirlpool of doubt and hope inside her mind refused to shut down. It was a nightmare. Not wanting to be with Bucky because she _wanted_ to be with Bucky was vicious combination. Darcy would be lying if she said she didn’t want things to work. But it was for that very reason that she sent him one text on early in the week saying how swamped she was at work, and then avoided any further contact. It was better that way. She needed to figure her head out without him around being all sexy, and kind, and adorably thoughtful about the baby.

Or that was what she was telling herself. Avoidance was key. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that she was dying to see him again, and how much that terrified her.

As she was lying there contemplating her next step in not talking to Bucky while dying inside over it, she heard the soft burr of vibration that meant a message had just come in on her phone. Flipping over again, she picked it up, squinting at the screen to make out who could possibly be texting her at two in the morning.

It was Bucky. 

Darcy scrambled into a sitting position on the bed, dropping the phone in her haste. A few seconds were spent chasing it down in the folds of the duvet until she found it. Then she sat there, holding it in her hand like it might explode at any moment before she opened the text.

It was long. Novel long. She wondered if he’d been typing since the minute he left her apartment five days ago. Darcy sat back against the pillows as she scrolled through it.

 _(1/4) Hopefully you are one of those people who turn their ringer off at night, or this will probably land me even further in the dog house than I already am, but I can’t stop thinking about what happened on Monday. I know you said you had a busy week, and I’m trying to give you your space, but I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to not hearing from you. Which is why I’m sending this in the middle of the night. Maybe it will buy me a couple hours before you kick my ass over not waiting to hear from you first. I wouldn't have sent this without waiting, but I’m worried that you might be going through some stuff alone right now. Stuff you don’t have to go through alone. If you are? All you have to do let me know._

The text ended, and she thumbed down to read the next one.

_(2/4) Whatever is going on between us, Darcy, I want you to know that I’m willing to take the time to figure it out. You don’t want sex to be a part of it right now? I’m okay with that. Not gonna lie and say sex being a part of it too wouldn’t be okay too, but it seems like that threw you for a loop, and I blame myself for that. The truth is that I’m still figuring this out too. It’s just that..well...I met this girl. She’s hilarious, and feisty, and smart as hell, not to mention gorgeous, and I can’t get her out of my mind. But I think she’s also scared, and as of yet I haven’t given her a single reason to trust me._

The phone cut off the text again, and it continued in the next window.

_(3/4) So here is what I’m thinking. I go slow. I give you reasons to trust me. I find flowers I can bring you that don’t make you toss your cookies. I let you get to know me without putting pressure on you to make a decision either way. I find a way to make you comfortable enough that the next time you decide to take me to bed, it means I’m staying the night so I can cook you breakfast in the morning. Because I want to be that guy. The guy who makes you pancakes, or eggs, or whatever it is that you like to eat with your coffee. I hope me saying that doesn’t scare you too much. Someday I’ll tell you why I think life’s too short to hold back with letting someone know how you feel, but_

Darcy quickly scrolled down the read the rest.

_(4/4) until then, I’ll just be over here, going at the pace you set. Whatever that pace may be. I’m not sure when you’ll read this. Maybe you’ll see how long it is, and just decide to cut your losses and delete the whole thing, but if you do read it? Text me back. Tell me I’m right. Or that I’m wrong. Or that my texting privileges have been suspended. Just...please don’t shut me out, Darcy. It feels like maybe your silence means you’ve been thinking about doing that. If I did something wrong, just say the word. I’ll find a way to make it right. Anyway, goodnight, doll. Hope I didn’t wake you with my sleepless rambling._

She read over it a few more times, eyes glued to the screen. He was awake too. Awake and thinking about her. Before she could talk herself out of it, Darcy texted back, _You didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not going to suspend your texting privileges._

There was no response for a few tense moments, and then her screen lit up with, _Can I call you?_

It took her an even longer amount of time to type the word ‘yes’, and then send it. Her phone vibrated a few seconds later. Darcy took a deep breath, and then answered.

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound like taking calls from Bucky in the middle of the night, after she’d spent the past two hours ruminating on how she felt about him, wasn’t a big deal.

“Jesus, doll. Sorry about the texting. I had no idea you’d be up. I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

His voice washed over her, and she closed her eyes. Darcy knew it was stupid to find it so comforting. Stupid, and dangerous, and damn, she was in trouble.

“No. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep,” she replied.

“Are you… Is the baby making you sick?” Bucky sounded hesitant and nervous, like he was having difficulty choosing his words, or wasn’t sure what was okay to ask.

“That. And I had a lot on my mind.”

“Me too.” He went quiet for a moment, and then said, “So, you read the thing I sent?”

“You mean the massive tome of text on my phone?” Darcy said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. “Yeah. I read it.”

“Tome, huh? Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It was sweet. I mean, I said you could call, right? So how bad could it be?”

“I don’t know, doll. Maybe you’re just waiting to lower the boom.”

“Lower the boom?” A snort of laughter escaped despite Darcy’s best efforts. “What are you, a pirate? Pirate _and_ firefighter?”

“Have you considered that I might be a man of many talents?” Bucky teased. 

“Like being a pirate? Is there a parrot somewhere in all this? Do you keep it on your pirate ship?”

“Spend more time with me, and you’ll find out,” he replied. “Anyway, it’s a sailboat, not a pirate ship.”

“You're not even kidding right now, are you? You have an actual boat. What about the parrot?”

“No parrot. Just a pretty little cutter. I could introduce you to her. Maybe take you out on Lake Stanley this weekend. We could pack a lunch. Make a whole day out of it.”

At the mention of bobbing around out on the water in a some kind of boat, Darcy felt her stomach lurch. “Yeah. I don’t think sailing is exactly my forte right now. Or lunch.”

“Okay. So we eighty-six the sailing. How about coffee in a stationary, landlocked, public place instead?” Bucky persisted. “There’s a park bench across from this little breakfast joint on Second Ave that I guarantee won’t cause seasickness. We could meet there tomorrow morning.” 

Darcy picked at the seam on her duvet while considering his offer. “Is coffee part of your ‘taking it slow’ plan?”

“Possibly. If you say yes. I thought I could also work in a couple breakfast sandwiches as long as the baby doesn’t mind.”

“And if it minds?”

“No food,” Bucky replied promptly. “Just coffee. Or no coffee. Orange juice. Ice water. Whatever. I’m flexible.”

“You’d starve for the sake of my stomach?” she asked, lips starting to twitch up into a smile again.

“If that’s what you need.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I am,” he said, and Darcy could practically see him shrug.

She shook her head. “How are you even real?”

“I’m not. I’m an incredibly sexy, selfless, figment of your imagination that just happens to want to take you for coffee,” Bucky said.

“That would make more sense than the truth,” she muttered, then said in a louder tone, “Fine. Coffee with the potential for sandwiches. What time?”

“Well, it’s what now? Almost three am? Let’s say eleven. That way you get some sleep. And if you can’t sleep, let me know. We can reschedule.”

“Okay. Eleven. Park bench. I’ll be there,” Darcy said.

“You know, I could pick you up,” he offered.

“No. I’ll walk. I like walking. Walking is good, and it’s only, like, right down the street from me.”

“You like walking, huh? Okay, Bennet, we can both walk. I’ll meet you at eleven.”

Darcy frowned. Bennet? What the hell did he mean by that? “Yeah. Sure. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

She ended the call, staring at her phone before setting it back on the nightstand. Whatever. It was probably nothing, and she needed to sleep. Darcy snuggled back into her pillows, tugging the blanket up nearly to chin. Mercifully, both the zygote and her brain had decided to call it a night, and she actually _did_ get to sleep.

Six hours later, she woke up, sat straight up in bed, and exclaimed, “Holy shit! _Bennet_.”

He was unbelievable. How very dare he make a Jane Austen reference to a woman named Darcy? She worked in an actual publishing company for fucksake, and not once had anyone pulled that crap on her. Mostly because they knew better. Well, that punkass was gonna learn the hard way. She was ordering the biggest sandwich the place had, plus hash browns, and Bucky was damn well paying for them.


	5. Our Lady of Brunch and Booties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky seeks advice from family, Darcy gets her hash browns, and a certain nickname is totally starting to stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever, and for that I am sorry. I hate making you guys wait. We had internet outages, and some dudes from the city ran into a powerline with a backhoe, and just...okay, pretty much anything that could go wrong did. On top of that I had an awful lot of momming to do lately, and momming always comes first. So. Yep. All that kinda slowed me down. I'm really hoping the length of the chapter will make up for the amount of time it took me to post it. :D (fingers crossed) ANYWAY, has everyone seen Civil War? Yes? No? I'm still screeching over it...and (avert your eyes if you don't want to be a teensy bit spoiled) I swear to you guys, I will never see a plum without thinking of Bucky and how he never got to eat his. Truly. Very sad. Poor Bucky. Let the poor guy eat his flipping plums in peace. For. Reals.
> 
> All my thanks to the lovely Miin and Dresupi for their help and beta work with this chapter. <3
> 
> *****************************************************

Bucky’s entire week had been shit. It started out when he moved off Steve and Natasha’s couch and went home. What he hadn’t told Darcy, or anyone really, was that part of the reason he’d stayed away from home so long was because it killed him to think about coming back to Dugan’s dog dishes and bed. The dishes were the first thing he saw when he walked in the kitchen door. Both were sitting there, sad, empty reminders of the friend he'd lost. 

He fought back a lump in his throat as he crouched down to pick them up so he could wash them in the sink. When he told Darcy what a good boy Dugan was, he hadn’t been lying. The boxer might have been small on brains, but he was big on heart. Bucky got him as a birthday present from his grandparents the year he turned sixteen. For ten years they’d been inseparable. Dug had even been there when Bucky graduated from the fire academy, and stayed at the firehouse during Bucky’s shifts. The hurt from losing him was still pretty raw. Putting away his things made it final in a way that Bucky had been able to avoid.

The half-mauled teddy bear that Dugan insisted on lugging around with him everywhere had been buried with him, but his other toys were still lying around. A few were on the dog bed, and the rubber treat thing with the tooth punctures in it was under the kitchen table. Bucky put them all into a milk crate, and carried it down into the basement to store next to the dryer. It didn’t really make sense to keep them, but he couldn’t bear to throw them out. All that was left was the dog bed. Bucky stood looking at it for a long time before he finally gathered it up in his arms and took it down to the basement as well. The dishes he pushed into a dark corner of the walk-in pantry where he wouldn't see them every time he needed to get a can of soup.

Then it was done. All traces of the sweet, goofy boxer were removed from the house. It made Bucky’s chest hurt. The silence was even worse, no click clack of toenails on the wood floors, or vigilant wuffs to alert him to passing pedestrians. No comical, upside-down doggy face with the tongue lolling out greeted Bucky from the couch. The damn house felt like a funeral. No wonder he didn’t want to leave Steve’s. At least there Bucky had Sousa’s cheerful wagging tail, and warm comforting bulk. Here he had nothing.

A couple of days into being home and Bucky suspected he had no Darcy, either. Despite her promise to text him, he’d heard nothing from her. Clearly the rule breaking sex had a bigger fallout than he imagined it would. Most of his week was spent worrying. By Friday night, Bucky was pacing around his bedroom wondering what the hell he should do.

Finally, he decided to text her and try to find out what was going on. He hated to push her, or make her feel cornered, but he’d laid low for a week just waiting on her. The complete lack of communication between them couldn’t possibly be a good thing. Especially not with impending parenthood on the horizon. 

Bucky edited his text more times than he was willing to admit before sending it. In the end he just gave up and sent what had before he could talk himself out of it. Unbelievably it worked. They had a date. Darcy still sounded unsure, but agreeing to see him again was at least something. He could work with that. Hopefully.

Fuck, he sounded like a needy kid. It was nuts how hard he’d fallen for this girl in such a short period of time. Bucky had never felt anything like it before. It was like he’d been struck by lightning the moment she’d opened her mouth to give him shit for being late back in Vegas, and hadn’t recovered since. 

None of it made sense exactly. But then again, as his grandad liked to say, when you know, you know. According to him, he’d seen Bucky’s nan across a crowded dance hall, and decided she was the girl he was going to marry before he even took her out for that first spin on the floor. It was the same with Bucky’s mother. She had come home after her first date with his father, and told her parents that she’d met the one. There were stories that his great grandmother had said the same thing after meeting his great-grandfather at a church picnic, and her father before her had a similar tale. It seemed to be a family trait passed down through the generations along with the stories of how each couple met. So whether it made sense or not, Bucky knew Darcy was the girl for him. He could feel it in his gut. He had no misconceptions that he was convincing her of this over a cup of coffee on a park bench, but it was a start. 

The rest of Friday night had been a complete loss. Bucky tossed and turned, trying to figure out what he was going to say when he met Darcy the next day. Finally he gave up, deciding around six that his best bet was to pull on some clothes and go in search of a little advice. He knew his grandad would already be up. The old man woke at five on the dot every day, and had his coffee out on the screened in side porch while breakfast was cooking.

When Bucky was still a kid, he had once asked why his grandfather never helped make the meals, and was answered by his nan leaning into the pass-through and saying, “Because he knows he’d be sleeping down at the Catholic War Vets if he dirtied my kitchen, that’s why.”

She was smiling when she said it, but Bucky didn’t doubt her words for a minute. His nan was what she’d call ‘particular’ about how things were run in the house. Meals were served on time, and, with the exception of breakfast, were sit down affairs at the dining room table. Every square inch of the home and yard were spotless. Bucky’s childhood memories always seemed to include the scent of Bon Ami, and the orange oil cleaner that she used to polish the woodwork. Over the years Bucky had come to associate those smells with familial love, and stability.

It was a hard thing to walk out the door without getting Dugan’s leash first, and a harder thing to jog over to his grandparent’s house without the dog galloping along next to him. Dug loved going over there. Both his grandparents had spoiled the dog. His grandad insisted on keeping those bacon dog treats hidden under the seat cushion of the wicker couch on the sun porch, and would sneak them to the dog when no one was looking. Meanwhile, Bucky’s nan had gone online to research the healthiest type of dog biscuit, and she kept them in a cookie jar for Dugan on the kitchen counter. The dog had been in heaven whenever they visited.

Their place was only a few blocks from his own, and he got there less than ten minutes after leaving. He unlatched the picket fence gate, latching it behind him after he went through, and skirted his nan’s flower beds on his way around to the side of the house. His grandad was there, reading the paper just like Bucky knew he would be. For a moment he paused, standing at the bottom of the wooden steps leading up the sunroom, and trying to think of what he was going to say to his grandparents about Darcy.

While Bucky was still figuring that out, his grandad turned to the sports section, not bothering to look up, and said, “Are you going to stand around out there all morning keeping the petunias company, or come in for sausage and eggs?”

Bucky shook his head, grinning. “Sausage and eggs.”

“Then you’d better go see your nan and let her know. She’s in the kitchen. I’ll still be here when you get back. Haven’t gotten to the obituaries yet.”

“Yes, sir.” 

He took the steps two at a time, a habit from his childhood that he never let go. Careful not to let the screen door bang when he entered the sunporch, Bucky gave his grandad a nod, and went straight into the house. His grandmother was busy at the sink in the kitchen, rinsing out eggshells for her compost heap. 

“Hello, Nan,” he said, snagging an apple out of the bowl on the counter, and biting into it.

“James!” She spun around, wiping her hands on the floral apron she was wearing over her clothes, and enveloped him in a hug. He could smell the Palmolive dish soap she’d been using, along with clorox and clean cotton from the dishcloth she had over her shoulder. “We haven’t seen you in weeks! I was starting to worry. Losing Dug like that... I imagine you must be pretty broken up. Your grandad and I are too.”

The lump he’d managed to fight down back at home started to show up again, and Bucky held it at bay by swallowing the bite of apple. “I’m dealing.”

“Dealing, eh?” Her mouth compressed sympathetically. “Let me tell you, I cried the whole time I was taking the biscuits out of the jar, and I’m not afraid to admit it. If ever there was a good dog, it was our Dugan. I’m going to miss him around here, and that’s a fact.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll just bet you will, you poor kid,” she replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze before taking a step back towards the egg carton on the counter. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to eat anything too big, though. I’ve got this thing in a little while.”

“A thing, eh?” His nan eyed him shrewdly. 

“Yeah.” Bucky could feel himself starting to blush, something that hadn’t happened in years. God, his nan could see through him in seconds. She’d always been able to do that. He ducked his head slightly, refusing to look at her. “I’m getting coffee with a...friend.”

“I take it this friend isn’t Steven Rogers, hm? And it’s also not one of the boys down at the station. You would be standing there shuffling from foot to foot, and staring at that bowl of apples like it had all the answers, if it were.”

“No.” Bucky cleared his throat. “It isn’t.”

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought. Well, I can see you aren’t ready to tell me more about your new _friend_ right now, and I won’t pry. I know you, James. You’ll tell me in your own time. Or you’ll tell him.” She waved her spatula in the direction of the sun porch. “Speaking of the old codger, why don’t you go on out and keep your grandad company while I cook.”

He did what she suggested, exiting the kitchen with definite sense of relief. It wasn’t that his gran would keep harping on the identity of his mystery friend. It was that she _wouldn’t_ , and somehow by her not trying to find out, Bucky would end up spilling everything. This was her tried and true method for getting people to tell her things. Somehow it always seemed to work, too. Or at least it had always worked with Bucky. He’d never been able to keep things from her for long.

His grandad was reading the engagements when Bucky walked back into the sunroom.

“So,” the older man began the moment Bucky had seated himself in one of the wicker chairs, “what’s her name?”

It would seem Bucky’d gone from the frying pan into the fire, which had probably been his nan’s intention all along. He looked down at the apple still in his hand with its lone missing bite, smiling ruefully. “I’m not gonna get out of here without talking about this, am I?”

“Son, it’s my belief that you arrived here this morning knowing that. In fact…” His grandad gave the paper a quick snap, folding it once and then again, looking at Bucky over the frames of his reading glasses as he set it next to him on the table. “...I think you have a quite a bit you want to get off your chest, or you wouldn’t be sitting there right now. The look on your face tells me it’s about a girl, and if I’m not mistaken, this girl is special. Am I right?”

Bucky nodded. “I might have met someone.”

“And things have gone belly up?”

“Yeah.” He got no further before it all started to spill out. So much for avoiding talking about it. “I, uh...I made some mistakes, Grandad. With the girl.”

“The girl whose name you don’t want to tell me yet. Who you are more than a little bit gone on, yes? And now things between you are what your mother liked to call ‘complicated’.”

“That about sums it up,” Bucky said.

“Are you here to fess up to these ‘mistakes’, or will that be coming later?” his nan asked, bustling in from the kitchen with a platter full of sausage, scrambled eggs, and toast.

“I have a feeling that’s the complicated part,” Bucky’s grandad replied to her.

“It is,” he agreed. 

His nan paused in setting down the platter, and turned to look at him. “Oh James. Is it what I think it is?”

“Now Ginny, give a boy a chance to eat his breakfast before we start jumping to conclusions.” 

She frowned for a moment, and then went back into the kitchen to get plates. Bucky shot his grandfather a grateful look, but it was met with raised eyebrows and concern.

“I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily,” he said. “And she _will_ worry. You and I both know that. Just how big of a mistake did you make with this girl, James?”

Bucky faced him calmly, and said, “I don’t think that part is a mistake. Not with her. But it’s definitely a complication. It’s unexpected, that’s all. She’s scared. Hell, I’m scared too. I’ve never felt this way, and I don’t want to push her too hard.”

“Ah.” His grandad sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. “I know that look. You mother wore it once, and so did I. Still do every time my Ginny walks into the room. So this girl, she’s not as sure about you as you are about her, hm? And now the two of you are working under a bit of a time constraint. That’s the complication.”

“She’s the one,” he said. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

“One of the quirks of being a member of this family. Not that it’s a bad thing, mind you. Saved me a lot of time and trouble when I was courting your nan. I knew it couldn’t have been anyone but her the moment I saw her. As far as sixth senses go, it’s a hell of alot easier on us than seeing dead people, wouldn’t you say?”

“I thought that before I met Darcy,” Bucky replied. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“So it’s Darcy, is it?” His nan walked back in with three plates, and a handful of silverware. “Pretty name. Strong too.”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled fondly to himself. “It fits her”

“I expect your grandad has already weaseled things out of you.” She scooped eggs and sausage onto plates as she spoke. “What I want to know is, how many months do I have to knit booties? I’ve got a new pattern I’ve been dying to try out, and Our Lady of Perpetual Help has stopped taking donations for the hospital right now.”

Bucky choked on the bite of apple he’d just taken. “I… I never said...”

“James, your grandfather and I weren’t born yesterday. I knew something was up the minute you slunk into my kitchen this morning, and didn’t want to tell me who your new friend was. Young people couldn’t keep their hands off each other back in my day either. Lord knows, Ellis and I did our share of getting to know each other. People were counting the months when I got pregnant with your mother. To this day I’m not sure they weren’t right. She might very well have been two weeks premature…” His nan tilted her head, and shrugged. “Then again...she might not. What premature baby weighs nearly eight pounds? That’s what I’d like to know. I’m just glad the stigma has mostly worn off. All those poor girls sent off to the nuns at the Catholic laundries. It still makes me shudder to think of it. So, if you think I’m going to judge either of you, you’re wrong.”

It was one of those times when Bucky didn’t know where to begin. He wasn’t even sure where to look. It was one thing to know in the abstract that his grandparents had sex, it was another thing to be told they were apparently going at it like rabbits before they even tied the knot by his own grandmother.

“I think you rendered the poor boy speechless, Ginny,” his grandad remarked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, that’s too bad. I expect his generation thinks they invented sex. I know ours thought that, and his mother’s too for that matter. Remember when we caught her sneaking down the wisteria trellis to meet James’ father in that old Chevy Nova he used to drive? Acted like we couldn't possibly know what she was up to. Ah well, I suppose it will always be that way, won’t it? The younger ones thinking the older ones don’t understand. At any rate, tell me, James, what are your plans with this young woman?”

“I’m meeting her for a late brunch,” he said, attempting to sidestep the full implications of her question.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, young man. Do you intend to be there for her and this child?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Bucky replied. “If she’ll let me.”

“Well, if you don't mind me saying, it’s a bit late for her to be gunshy, isn’t it? It seems to me that horse is out of the gate and running.”

“Ginny.” His grandfather set his coffee mug down, and reached over to lay a hand on top of Bucky’s nan’s. 

“Hmm?” She looked over at him for a moment, and Bucky watched a silent conversation play out between the two of them. “My, my. So that’s it, is it? I was hoping as much, but you never can tell. What a mess it would have been otherwise, eh? Well then, if she’s the one, she’ll come around. I did. Eventually.”

“Took a damn sight longer than I thought it would, though,” Bucky’s grandad said, patting her hand.

“That’s your own fault,” his nan replied. “What kind of fool tells a girl that he’s going to marry her ten minutes after they first meet?”

Bucky wondered what she’d say to the fact that he’d proposed to Darcy within twenty-four hours of meeting her. He decided to keep that particular bit of information to himself for the time being.

“Now, now, Virginia, fault me for my enthusiasm if you will, but even you have to admit I was right in the end.”

“I suppose, but then I’ve had time to get used to it, haven’t I? However, I am not afraid to say that at the time I thought you were fit for Utica State Hospital. All that talk of soulmates, and love at first sight.” She shook her head. “I was too sensible a young woman to put any stock in it. I suspect this Darcy is as well. Have you said anything to her about it, James?”

“Not in so many words, no,” Bucky said. 

“Good. You’ll have enough of an uphill battle without bringing in all your grandad’s family magic nonsense. Even if it does seem to be true. Wait until she comes around a bit before you tell her about the espy, or whatever Ellis calls it.”

“ESP,” his grandad said. “And I never said it was that. It’s just something that runs in the family is all. Like my Pap used to say, when you know, you know.”

Bucky’s nan mouthed along with the words while forking up some eggs off her plate. “I’ll tell you what I know, and it’s that our food is getting cold while the three of us are sitting here trying to plan out the rest of young James’ life for him. Eat up. There’s no sense in letting it go to waste, and nothing is getting done on an empty stomach anyway.”

The two men obeyed, and by seven am there was not so much as a sausage left on the platter. Bucky stayed a bit longer, helping his nan with the dishes as she put the kitchen to rights. Finally the last plate was washed and put away. His nan wrung out the dishcloth, and hung it over one of the rods attached to the cabinets to dry. 

“That’s those done then,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “When do you meet your Darcy?”

“She’s not my Darcy,” Bucky said.

“Yet,” his nan replied. “No matter how much I scoff at your grandad over all his talk, our marriage is proof that it’s real. Your mother’s too. I know your parents aren’t here right now, but I can tell you they loved each other in a way that is considered rare nowadays.”

“So you always tell me.”

“I tell you because it’s true. Now, go on. Get out of here. There’s only a lick and a polish left to do. Nothing I can’t handle myself, and I can see you’re itching to go get ready to meet her.”

“Thanks, Nan. For the food...and everything else.”

“You’re welcome, James. Your grandad and I are always here for you. You know that.”

Bucky leaned in to give a quick peck on the cheek, and then said goodbye to his grandad. It didn’t take him long to get ready once he was home. All that left him with was time to kill, and too much on his mind. So he went downstairs and pretended to watch the news until it was time to leave. 

It was a short walk to the agreed meeting spot across from the coffee shop. Darcy was already there when he arrived, sitting on the bench with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and her eyes focused down the opposite end to the street.

“Morning, Bennet,” he said, startling her without meaning to do it. She jumped slightly, arms tightening as she turned to face him. “How was the walk over?”

“God. You’re like a fucking cat,” Darcy said. “How do you even do that? I’m half your size, and I make twice as much noise when I walk.”

“Too many years of sneaking in after my curfew,” he replied. “I developed a talent for making it upstairs without my nan finding out. She has ears like a rabbit.”

“Your nan? Did your grandparents live with you growing up?”

He shook his head. “No. I lived with them. They raised me from the time I was little.”

“Your grandparents raised you?”

The rest of her question, where she asked what happened to his parents, was left unsaid, but Bucky knew she was wondering. His family situation was bound to come up at some point, but he’d hoped for a little more time before he’d have to get into it. By the way Darcy’s brow was furrowing at the moment, he could tell that wasn’t happening.

“My parents passed away just after my sixth birthday,” he told her. “In their will, they named my mother’s parents as my legal guardians. So that’s where I lived until I bought my first place.”

“Oh, that’s… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I never would have asked you about it, if I had,” Darcy said, looking stricken. 

“Don’t feel bad. It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I keep saying the wrong things to you. First the whole dog thing, and now this.”

“Darcy, it’s really okay. It’s been twenty years since it happened. I miss them, and I’ll always miss them, but I went through the grieving process a long time ago. I don’t have a lot of memories of my mom and dad, because I was so young, but the ones I have are all good. That’s what’s important. That and the fact that my grandparents made sure I didn’t lack for love growing up. We’re still really close. I uh...I actually hoped you’d want to meet them at some point. When you’re ready.”

Bucky watched her for few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on her head. Her emotions tended to play out on her face like a movie when she wasn’t trying to conceal them. It was something he noticed within minutes of meeting her. Along with her rack, which should have been pictured under the word ‘spectacular’ in the dictionary. He would have had to of been dead, or at least unconscious, not to notice _that_.

Darcy suddenly cleared her throat, and Bucky realized he’d been far too focused on the spectacular rack in question. Shit.

“How’s staring at my boobs going for you?” she asked.

“I wasn’t,” he lied, and her eyebrows practically hit her hairline. 

“Oh really? What was it then? You’re a skilled tailor as well as a fireman and a pirate, and you were trying to determine what type of stitching they used in the collar of my shirt? Because that’s the only other excuse I can think of for your eyes being magnetized to my chest the way they were. FYI, I’ve had these boobs a really long time, and you aren’t the first tailor I’ve run across. 

“I’m not a pirate,” he said.

“You aren’t a tailor either,” Darcy countered. “So, now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m pretty sure we’re back to square one. You were staring at my boobs. Boobs that you have actually gotten up close and personal with one more than one occasion. Like, I’ve let you touch them, dude.” Then she leaned forward giving him a far better view of her cleavage, and said in a confidential tone, “Just between you and me, they’re fuckawesome, aren’t they?” 

Bucky realized in that moment that she wasn’t mad. Yeah, she was giving him shit, but he wasn’t really in trouble. How he wasn’t in trouble escaped him, but he wasn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth.

“I think fuckawesome might be selling them a little short,” he responded, and she grinned.

“I’ll take that into consideration. So, are we doing the brunch thing? Because the zygote is being a decent little citizen of Darcytown right now, and I’m kind of starving.”

“Absolutely. What do you want? I’ll run over and get it, and bring it back here.”

“Egg, sausage, and cheese sandwich, large orange juice, and hash browns,” she said. “And if they can put the hash browns directly in the sandwich that would be amazing.”

“Hash browns in the sandwich, got it. No coffee?”

“I had some earlier, and for whatever reason, I’m addicted to citrus and potato products right now. The zygote demands them, and my current goal in life is to not piss the zygote off, because that leads to all sorts of horrible pukey things.”

“Then we’ll avoid pissing him off,” Bucky replied without thinking.

“Him?” Darcy folded her arms over her chest. “The zygote is a boy now? When was this decided? Have the two of you been discussing things behind my back?”

Bucky tried valiantly to cover for his blunder. “Whoa, okay, _that_ was a complete accident. It just slipped out.”

“It slipped out, but you hope it’s a boy?”

“No.” He made a second attempt to recover. “It slipped out because I’m having a hard time thinking of our baby as an it.”

The second attempt actually seemed to be worse than the first. She stared at him, wide-eyed. He watched as she licked her lips, swallowed, and then said, “Could you say that again?”

“Our baby?”

Darcy blinked rapidly. “Sorry, I just…”

“I know,” Bucky said. “Believe me, I get it.” 

“I hate to keep saying we’re having a baby, but oh my God. We are. We’re having a baby, and I hardly know you. You don’t know me, either. Bucky, we don’t know each other.”

The panicked edge was creeping back into her voice, and Bucky dropped down heavily onto the bench next to her, raking his fingers through his hair. “Listen, that’s the point of all this, right? You and me, spending time together? Darcy…” He reached out and slid his hand under her jaw, gently tilting up her face so she was looking at him. “...we’ll get to know each other. Give me a chance, here, doll. Give us a chance. It’s only hash browns and orange juice, right? I swear I don’t have an engagement ring hidden on me somewhere. Not this time.”

She sniffed. “Okay. And for the record? I am not on the verge of crying over hash browns and orange juice. That is the baby, who is apparently very disappointed that I’m not eating yet.”

“So, let me go get the food, yeah? I’ll be right back, and you can ask me anything you want while we eat. That sound okay?”

Darcy nodded. “That sounds totally okay.”

“Good. They’re pretty quick in there. Ten minutes should do it. If you need me, text me.”

She nodded again, and Bucky left her to go get the food. He went over the allotted ten by two minutes, but she was still sitting there when he stepped out the door. Darcy seemed far more composed, smiling as she watched him cross the street with a cardboard drink tray balanced in one hand. Bucky joined her again, setting the bag of food, and tray of drinks between them, and began removing the containers so they could eat.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” she said, making grabby hands as he lifted the box marked ‘hshbrn in sndwch’ out of the bag.

He laughed, and handed it over. She popped the top on the box, sighing happily when she saw the sandwich inside. 

“Look at it,” Darcy said to him. “Everything anyone ever wanted to eat, all in one perfectly organized stack of fried goodness stuffed between toasted english muffins. It’s amazing. Please excuse me if I inhale it front of you, but the zygote need sustenance.”

“Inhale away,” Bucky replied, opening up his own sandwich. “It can’t be any worse than stuff I’ve seen during mealtimes at the station.”

“Mmmmm.” She closed her eyes, relishing the first bite. “I swear to you, this is what heaven tastes like. What kind did you get?” Her eyes popped open again, and she leaned towards him, peering into his box of food.

“Egg, bacon, cheese, and fried onions,” he said. “Hash browns on the side.”

“Not planning on getting kissed, huh?” Darcy asked, bumping his shoulder with her own.

He glanced over at her. “Why? Were you gonna kiss me?”

“I was playing it by ear,” she replied.

Without missing a beat, Bucky opened his sandwich, pushed the onions off of it with his plastic knife, and put the roll back on top. “What onions? I never said anything about any onions.”

She let out an honest-to-God laugh at that, eyes lit up and sparkling at him. The sound reminded him of the girl he’d met in Vegas, carefree, and full of mischievous charm. Bucky thanked any saints that might be listening for whatever miracle they were working between him and Darcy at the moment. 

“The zygote loves the sandwich,” she said to him. “Thank you, by the way. For brunch, and for texting last night. Sorry about me going into hibernation mode. Things have been weird for me, and they got weirder after the little incident that happened last week.”

“By ‘incident’ you mean the sex?” he asked, eyeing her slyly as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah. It was...it was really…”

“Good?”

She laughed again. “God, yeah. It was, wasn’t it? We’ve got some mad compatibility in the bedroom. I mean, we made a person and everything. I guess what I’m trying to say, though, is that it was really confusing for me. Or I’m really confusing to myself? It’s hard to explain. Rationally, I know that us jumping into bed together when we’re still trying to figure stuff out is a bad idea, however, my non-rational side really likes getting you naked.”

“I’m not sure which side you want me to appeal to right now,” Bucky said. “But at the moment, I’m just kind of enjoying sitting here with you on this bench.”

“Me too.” Darcy sipped her orange juice, then set the cup back in the tray. “So, you said I could ask you anything I wanted…”

Bucky grinned at her. “Am I about to regret that?”

“Maybe. I was just wondering what made you want to become a firefighter.”

His grin disappeared. “My parents." 

She looked up at him with interest. “Were they firefighters?”

“No. They were killed in a fire. That’s why I ended up with my grandparents.”

There was a pause, and then she said, “You know what? I’m just going to not ask anymore questions, because I am seriously, seriously bad at it.”

“It’s really okay,” he said to her. “This would have come up eventually anyway. Like I said, I was only a kid. Someone was going around setting fires to abandoned buildings. My dad was a real estate developer, and he and my mom were visiting this old rug factory that he was thinking about turning into loft apartments when the fire was set. The fire chief doesn’t think whoever it was realized there was anyone in the building, but we’ll never know, because they were never caught. For a long time I was just...I was so angry. You know? No one should go through what my family went through, and if I can help or prevent that? Then it’s worth it to me.”

“The person who set the fire is still running around somewhere? That’s terrible.” Darcy shook her head. “Were there any more fires after that?”

“Not that we know of. That’s one of the reasons why the authorities suspected the person setting them didn’t know there was anyone in the building at the time. It’s one thing to set a fire, it’s another to murder people. Either that put a stop to their arson streak, or they decided to go set fires somewhere else. They had a very specific type of accelerant method, and none of the local stations have come across it since. I checked.”

“Wow. You were only six, right? That’s a rough time to lose your parents.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I was incredibly lucky to have my grandad, and nan. What about you? Do your parents live in the area?”

Darcy’s face went tight, lips pressing together with a faint bitterness. “My dad does, but I don’t really spend a lot of time around him, and I have no fucking clue where my mom is right now. She bailed when I was little.”

“Jesus,” Bucky said. He sat back, feeling the rough press of the wooden slats through his shirt. “That’s rough. How little?”

“Little enough,” she hedged. “I pretty much lived at my best friend’s house for almost as long as I can remember. Clint Barton? You know him, right?”

“Not well, but yeah. We’ve got mutual friends. He knows Steve and Sam better than me. Did you really live with him?”

“We were next door neighbors. There were a lot of times where my dad couldn’t function enough to put food on the table after my mom left. The Bartons picked up the pieces a lot. I ate there, slept there, celebrated holidays with them. If I hadn’t known Clint, I don’t know what I would have done. This might be cliche to say, but he’s the big brother I never had. I learned sign language for him, and he learned how to braid hair for me.”

“Clint braided your hair?’

“Yep, and I’m about to really blow your mind, because Clint _still_ braids my hair. Do you know how hard it is to put in a reverse fishtail? He’s way better at it than I am. I’ve bribed him into playing salon before dates already.” Darcy grinned, and took a bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing before she continued. “You know how people call someone ‘good people’? Well Clint is the _best_ people. He’s an amazing artist too. Have you seen the comic he does with Wade Wilson?”

“I’ve got a few issues kicking around back at my place.” That was a lie. Bucky had every issue, neatly labeled and sorted into protective sleeves along with all the other comic books he collected. He wasn’t sure exactly how much of his inherent geekiness he wanted to visit on Darcy before they even got through their first date.

“I’ve got them all,” she said. “I made him and Wade sign them too, because like I keep telling them, someday they are gonna be worth millions. Besides, I was the one who got Clint into comic books in the first place. We used to keep them in this big wooden chest in my treehouse along with all this other stuff we considered treasure, string, and cool rocks, and a Playboy that Clint swiped from under his older brother’s bed. I’m a little more careful with my comics now. For instance, I keep them far, far away from anything Hugh Hefner puts out.”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t know. Johnny Storm might actually appreciate the editorials.”

“Johnny Storm.” She snorted. “No thanks. I prefer my super heroes a little more complex. Give me a morally ambiguous hero any day, like Wolverine, or Gambit. Or even Magneto.”

“Magneto’s not a hero,” he replied.

“Eh. Somebody has to love the villains. Why not me? Right?” Darcy waved her orange juice at him, and popped the end of the straw in her mouth. Then she looked down at her sandwich for a second, and back up at him. “Want to try it? It’s really good with the hash browns in the mix.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. Not that he didn’t think he’d like the taste. Bucky just didn’t want to take food away from her, but one look at Darcy’s warm, encouraging smile, and he found himself lifting the sandwich to his mouth. He took a bite, and chewed, eyes widening in appreciation.

“That,” he told her, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, “is _damn_ good.”

“Told you,” she said. “You can have more if you want. Especially since I’m gonna try yours.”

He smiled around a second mouthful, and swallowed so he could say, “Have at it.”

They worked their way through the sandwiches. Darcy ended up eating most of Bucky’s hash brown while he looked the other way. By the time they were done, he had her laughing over some of the better pranks he and Steve had pulled at the firestation, and she had told him all about the time she and Clint had filled the jacuzzi tub in his parent’s adjoining bathroom with tadpoles.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bucky said. “ _Who_ found them?”

“His mom.” Darcy shook her head at the memory. “God, I thought she was going to kill us for that. The minute Clint and I saw her heading down the hall, we both hid under his bunk bed. We had…” At this point she started giggling, hand covering her mouth. “Okay, you have to understand, I was about seven, and Clint was probably nine...or maybe ten, just kids. And being kids, we’d also filled the tub up with plastic boats, and this squeaky frog that belonged to their dog. Because...you know, we wanted the tadpoles to feel at home...so...so...we thought...a frog.”

Her whole body was shaking with laughter now, and Bucky put a hand on the box of food in her lap to steady it. “You gave them a plastic frog?”

“Yes. We also might have added some duckweed from the pond, and um, a sand pail full of muddy silt.”

“Of course you did. What kid wouldn’t?” A grin spread across his face. “What did his mother do?”

“Oh God, well, there was complete silence for a few seconds where we were both _sure_ our young lives were about to be ended by mom-wrath. Like, I’m not even kidding. I remember asking Clint if we’d still be friends in heaven. That’s how much I thought we might end up dead over the tadpole escapade. We were holding hands under the bed. Clint’s hand was so clammy, and I had dust bunnies in my hair, and all I could think was that this was it. The end. I was going to meet my maker with a head full of under the bed fluff. So, there’s still no response from his mom, and then we hear footsteps coming down the hall.”

“Oh no,” Bucky interjected.

“Oh yes,” Darcy replied. “And she comes in the room, and kneels down by the side of the bed so Clint can see her signing, and goes, ‘Meet me in the back yard in five minutes.’ Now, I have no idea how we’ve escaped death, but we apparently have. After a couple more minutes, Clint and I crawl out from under the bed, and go to see what’s up.”

“What was in the backyard?” he asked.

“That’s the best part,” she said. “Clint’s mom pulled out this plastic kiddie pool from the garage, filled it with pond water, and let us transfer all the tadpoles in there so we could watch them grow. She wasn’t mad at all, but she did insist that we return Lucky’s squeaky frog to him, and help her clean the tub.”

“You escaped certain death there,” Bucky said. “I don’t even know what my nan might have done if I filled her bathtub with tadpoles. It’s possible that I might not be sitting here right now.”

“I think it helped that Clint’s mom was the Chair of Biology at Culver. She set the whole tadpole thing up for us like a scientific study. We had field notebooks, and had to make daily reports on their growth and development to her over fudgesicles on the back porch. Dr. Barton is a cool lady. She’s what I aspire to be when I grow up, and have kids of my own.”

“When, huh?” He shifted close enough to bump her shoulder with his own. 

Darcy’s mouth dropped open, and one of her hands moved to her stomach. “Shit. Yeah. I can’t believe I just said that. ‘When’ is happening in eight months. Speaking of that, I need to decide on a doctor. I think it’s time to talk to Jane. Find out who she recommends, stuff like that.”

“You still want me at the appointments, right?”

“That’s why I put it on the list,” she said. “Maybe skip the first one. I think they do a pelvic.”

“I could leave for that part,” he replied. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Let me think about it. I know you’ve seen me naked already, but there’s sexytimes, and then there’s speculums and they are really not in the same league. I’m all about the first one. The second one not so much.”

Bucky smiled. “Fair enough. Why don’t I go along, and just hang out in the waiting room until you need me? I could catch up on Pregnancy Monthly or whatever. My subscription expired.”

She made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Pregnancy Monthly? Seriously? That’s not a real thing, Barnes.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on pregnancy magazines now?”

“No. I just know there isn’t one called Pregnancy Monthly.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “Bump Weekly, then.”

“Still not a thing,” Darcy said.

“The Daily Fetus?”

This response was met by giggling. “Oh my God, what is with you and timeframes?” 

“It was all I could come up with on short notice to make you laugh,” Bucky said. “And it worked, so I’m gonna take that as a win.”

“You’re such a dork. How did I not see this before?”

“You did. There’s no way you didn’t. Just admit it, and we can move on from here with both of us in agreement over that fact, Bennet.”

“I know what you’re doing there with that nickname, buddy. Don’t think I don’t. Which begs the question, are you a closet Austen fan as well as a dork?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. “I guess you’ll just have to spend more time with me and find out.”

“Sneaky. Very sneaky. I feel like you have an agenda here.”

“I do, but you knew that already. So it looks like your orange juice is finally kicked. Would it be too forward if I asked to walk you home?”

“Jesus, Bucky, next you’ll be trying to hold my hand too,” she responded with good natured roll of her eyes. “Norman Rockwell much?”

“You got me,” he said. “I’d carry your books, but you don’t have any.”

Darcy stood up, stretching before starting to gather their trash into the takeout bag so she could carry it to the can a few feet away. Then she looked over her shoulder and winked at him, saying, “Yeah, fine. I’ll let you walk me home, but this doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he shot back with a grin, standing up to join her. “I happen to know that you like me.”

“Whatever, loser. I’m only in it for the free food. You were right about this place, by the way. I can’t believe I never ate here before.”

“Maybe we could make it a regular date,” Bucky said. “Saturday brunch on the bench.”

“What if it rains?”

“You might not know this, but they do have this incredible invention called a roof. They’re like walls only between you and the sky. The cafe actually has one. It goes over where they keep the tables.”

“Knock it off, or I’m cancelling you walking me home,” she replied.

“Oh yeah?” He cocked his head at her. 

“Yep.”

“Well then I better make the most of it while you’re still letting me walk with you.”

“What are you talking abou…” The word was cut off midway through as he reached out and took her hand in his. “Oh my god, you’re such an ass, Barnes.”

“You’re the one holding my hand,” Bucky said, shrugging. 

“I’m not.”

He glanced down at their entwined fingers, and back up at her. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Whatever. I’m just walking next you. The hand-holding has nothing to do with me.”

She sniffed primly, chin lifted up and eyes on the tree branches above. Bucky looked down at their hands again, fitted together palm to palm, and gave hers a little squeeze. 

“You’re a tough cookie, Bennet. I’ll say that.”

“I’m not actually. That’s part of the problem.” She said the words so quietly, Bucky barely caught them. Darcy continued in a much brighter tone, “So, is this a door to door service, or does it end at the sidewalk?”

He realized then that the geranium lined walkway to her apartment building was fast approaching. Too fast, if Bucky was being honest with himself. He would have paid cash money for a few more blocks worth of holding her hand. “Door to door.”

“Chivalrous.”

“Nah. It’s selfish.”

“Selfish?” She looked up at him quizzically as they turned up the walk. 

“Mhmm.” 

He waited until she’d pressed the code for the front entrance door, and then opened it for her, letting her walk inside first. She was still giving him curious glances as they walked down the hall to her apartment.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Selfish how?” Darcy asked while she was getting out her key.

“Selfish because I figured if I was getting that kiss you hinted at, it was gonna happen at your door.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and he could tell she was fighting back a smile. “I see. And what makes you think I won’t leave you out on the welcome mat here with nothing?”

“Not a damn thing. I just thought it was worth the risk. Besides, either way I still got to see you home safe.”

“Uhuh. Right. Well, bye Bucky! Thanks again for brunch.” She patted his shoulder, and opened her door, darting inside and closing it after her.

He was still standing there, staring at the space where she’d just occupied, when her door popped open again.

“Oh,” she said, poking her head out. “You’re still here. Okay then. Guess I should do something about that.”

Before Bucky could even formulate a reply, Darcy had stepped back out into the hall and gone up on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was the second time she’d completely caught him off guard with a kiss on her doorstep. He thought maybe it was a habit he could get used too as her lips moved against his. Moments later he decided it was definitely a habit he could get used to. Darcy’s fingers curled in his hair, tugging him closer, and her body pressed to his, the feel of it lighting him up in all the right ways. 

“We can’t do this,” she whispered between open-mouthed kisses.

Bucky tried to marshal his thoughts, and failed. “Do what?”

“This,” Darcy replied urgently, still not letting go of him. “This...whatever it is.”

“Kissing?”

“No. Yes. No. Fuck it.” She captured his mouth again, derailing his train of thought once more. 

“Wait.”

“Nope.”

“Darcy…”

“Shhh.”

He caught her face in his hands, gently holding it in place as he pulled away. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed, and all Bucky wanted to do was go straight back to their impromptu hallway makeout session. The problem was that he thought he knew where this was headed, and the last time it headed there, he hadn’t heard from her for a week.

“Darcy? We can’t do what?” he asked. 

“Break the rules,” she answered. “We shouldn’t. I want to, though. What is it about you? Every single time I’m around you, all I can think about is getting under you...or getting you under me. Whichever.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “That’s...that’s um…”

“Maybe not the best thing to say after I’ve just said we shouldn’t have sex even though I really, really want to?” Darcy finished for him.

“Probably,” he replied with a half-choked laugh. “Jesus, doll. What am I gonna do with you?”

“You definitely don’t want me to answer that right now,” she said. “Because I’ve got some ideas, and all of them are bad.”

He sighed, and forced himself to take a step backwards, giving them both some much-needed space. “Yeah. I get that. I’ve got the same problem. So, how about we put a pin in the whole rule-breaking thing, and work on setting up our next date?”

“Okay. I can do that. What were you thinking?”

“Well, you haven’t seen my place yet…”

“That was a super-smooth segway into inviting me to your lair just then,” Darcy said.

“It’s actually more of a colonial,” he told her. “Shutters and everything.”

“Oh. Well that’s totally different. I mean, lairs never have shutters.”

“Or landscaping.”

“You’ve got landscaping?”

“You kidding me? I’ve even got a porch swing.”

“Sold,” Darcy said, “but just so we’re clear, you had me at shutters.”

“Did I mention the farmhouse sink?”

“Overkill, Barnes. Overkill. Learn when to stop.” 

Bucky smirked. “I’m gonna refrain from pointing out that you almost had me on my back in your hallway, Ms. Learn When to Stop.”

“Never happened,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I was a model of restraint.”

He considered saying something to that, but settled for just raising his eyebrow at her. “How’s dinner tomorrow sound? Say, six?”

“Sounds good. I’m going to need the address to your lair.”

“I’ll text it to you. Or I could meet you here and walk with you. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Yeah, but won’t you be leaving food in the oven? Aren’t you afraid of a fire?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just looked at her.

“Why are you making that face?”

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“Waiting for what?”

“Any minute.”

“Any minute wha… Oh. OH. You mean the part where I realize I’m an idiot who just warned a firefighter about potentially starting a fire. That part?”

“I didn’t say it,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”

“Nah. Well...maybe a little. Not the idiot bit. But the rest.”

“I’m going to have to ask you get off my welcome mat,” Darcy said. “It’s super important that I go inside and bang my head on a wall in mortification now, and I can’t do that if you’re standing here.”

“So, I’ll meet you here at six tomorrow night?”

“Unless I actually die from embarrassment, yes. Six. I’ll be here.”

“Okay, Bennet, I’ll see you then.” Bucky leaned forward, brushing a quick kiss on her forehead, and made for the front entrance. With each step he took, he waited for the click of her door closing behind her, but it didn’t come until just before he got outside. There was something about that, her waiting and watching him go, that made him buoyant with hope.

He was going to win her over. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. Bucky could feel it.


	6. First Official Meeting of the Lollipop Guild (and more stuff Darcy isn't sure she wants to deal with)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes back to work, Darcy's friends stage a pizza intervention, and Clint learns anchovies are a very bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...this chapter took a REALLY long time to get done, and I'm sorry about that. It gave me all the trouble. I had four drafts, and not a single one worked for me, until I hit on this one. Hopefully, it's worth all the work, and pulling my hair out. ;D In happy news, that means the next chapter is already mostly done. (Because initially it was going to this chapter so, yeah. It's pretty much written. It also contains smut. Woo!)
> 
> In other news, I had an actual fun reason for this chapter being late as well. (Those of you who follow me on tumblr already know this, so bear with me here, I'm still pretty damn excited) Anniemar came up to visit, and we went to Wizard World Philly together. I'll post a pic of that in the end notes, because REASONS, YOU GUYS. :D
> 
> **********************************************

Darcy’s original dinner date at Bucky’s ended up getting canceled due to fire. Not at his place, which was a good thing, but at a condemned apartment complex in the next town over. Technically it was under the jurisdiction of a different fire department, but after they arrived on site it became apparent that more units needed to be brought in to extinguish the blaze. 

By the time it was over, the entire structure was more or less destroyed along with any hope of their date happening. Bucky texted in the wee hours of Monday morning to let her know he was okay, and then went to bed. He slept most of Monday, and Tuesday marked the start of his shift at the firehouse. 

They were currently doing long shifts of 48 on, and 24 off, which meant sleeping over. Bucky had explained it to her over the phone while he was on a break. Most of the time the guys at his station worked twenty-four hour pops, followed by forty-eight hours off, but a recent spate of fires meant increased shifts. It turned out that the pizza shop had been arson, and not an oven left on like the news originally reported. It had been made to look like an oven, though. 

Bucky seemed uneasy about that, and Darcy didn’t blame him. Whoever set the fire was smart enough to try covering their tracks. Not only that, but an old barn went up in flames on Tuesday night. There’d been an electrical storm, which might have explained it, but it Bucky said the burn pattern didn’t add up to lightning. It was currently being investigated along with the apartment complex. Every fire department in the area was on high alert. 

This didn’t prevent Bucky from calling her during the week. Once he even got on Skype so he could show her the common areas in the firehouse where the rest of the crew was eating what looked like chili out of mismatched bowls. 

“Are you eating out of a baking dish?” Darcy asked him, squinting at the oval container in his hand.

“Yeah. Everything is donated, so we’ve gotta take what we can get during mealtimes. Still tastes the same, though.”

“You should see the silverware!” a voice that sounded like Steve’s yelled. 

The view from Bucky’s phone spun for a second, and then Darcy caught a glimpse of Steve waving a dented slotted spoon at her from his spot at the table. She waved back, shaking her head at the same time.

“How does he even get food into his mouth with that thing?” she asked Bucky when he’d turned the phone back around. “That spoon is a diet gimmick waiting to happen.”

“It was either that or nothing, so he’s making it work. Usually there aren’t this many guys on. The chief overscheduled due to the arson on Sunday. He doesn’t want to take any chances.”

“So it was definitely arson then?”

“Couldn’t have been anything else. We're waiting to get the reports back on the type of accelerant used. Right now it doesn’t seem connected to the barn, or the pizza shop. Probably just kids screwing around. It happens all the time with abandoned buildings. We’re just glad no one was in it.”

“Me too. I’m glad you’re okay. You know…” Darcy cleared her throat. “...all of you.”

“Awww, Bennet, is that your way of saying you care?” He grinned at her, blue eyes sparkling even through the pixelated connection.

“Shut your face, loser,” she retorted, but couldn't hide her smile. “Are we still on for Saturday?”

“We are unless you cancel on me. How does lasagna sound?”

“Scary.”

“Have a little faith in me, doll. I actually do know my way around a kitchen,” Bucky said. “My nan insisted that I learn to cook so I didn’t starve when I moved out.”

“I’m reserving judgement,” Darcy replied. “Not with your nan. Just with your cooking.”

He stepped out of the room, giving them a little more privacy, and said, “Want to make a friendly wager on it? Because I can think of one or two things I wouldn’t mind laying on the line to prove you wrong.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ve got to go. The zygote wants ice cream and bad TV. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“You know it. See you Saturday, Bennet.”

He winked and ended the connection, leaving Darcy wondering what exactly he’d planned to lay on the line if she’d taken the bet. A few things crossed her mind, all of them totally inappropriate, and she dropped down onto the cushions of her couch with a sigh. She was in so much trouble where Bucky was concerned. If only he wasn’t so damn charming. And gorgeous. And kind.

It was the kindness that was really getting to her. She needed to focus on other things, like picking out a doctor before the baby was actually ready to be delivered. That meant it was time to call Jane and ‘fess up about what had happened in Vegas. 

Darcy frowned as she dialed the number. Jane was going to freak. At the last second, she set the phone down again without sending the call. She could always tell her tomorrow. In person...and ideally in a populated area where Jane couldn’t actually strangle her for being so completely irresponsible. Right. Tomorrow it was. Right now she was going to make good on the excuse she’d given Bucky, put the most inane TV series possible on Netflix, and binge watch while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.

She definitely wasn’t going to think about Saturday. And she definitely, DEFINITELY wasn’t going to circle back around to what Bucky had planned on wagering...and if any of it involved clothing removal. Specifically his.

***********************************************************************************

“You seem to be warming up to the idea of parenthood with Bucky.”

Natasha pushed a highball glass of what she had a dubbed a fauxjito across the kitchen island at Darcy. She took it, frowning down into the mix of soda water, lime juice, mint, and cane sugar, wishing the absent rum wasn’t quite so absent. An emergency cohort meeting had been scheduled at Steve and Natasha’s directly following Darcy telling Jane about her pregnancy. Suffice to say, telling her in person, in a highly populated area, had not been enough to keep Jane from freaking out. The three women were currently nursing drinks, and waiting for Clint to arrive with pizza.

Darcy wasn’t completely sold on the pizza idea. Half of her really wanted it, but the zygote half was still undecided. She’d given the zygote half a serious pep talk in the car, all about the wonders of pizza, and starting a college fund for good behavior. Hopefully it would help.

“Yeah. Bucky and I are figuring things out,” she said in reply to Nat’s statement. “We had brunch together on Saturday, and he’s making me dinner Saturday night.”

“You didn’t tell me about brunch,” Jane said. She peered at Darcy over the rim of her own fauxjito as she took a sip. “How’d that go?”

“Good. It was...you know...brunchy. Much talk, very progress.”

Darcy knew by the expression on both her friends’ faces that her flippant answer was about to be dissected. She’d been dreading that since the moment Nat had called this little meeting at the Rogers’ residence. At least Steve was at the firehouse since the forty-eight on schedule was still in effect. 

Natasha shook some tortilla chips into a bowl, and pulled a container of guacamole out of the fridge, setting it down next to the chips. “Care to expand on that?” 

“Not at all,” Darcy said. “How long did Clint say the pizzas would take?”

“I’m sorry, but can we rewind here?” Jane asked, scooping some guacamole up on a chip. “Because I’m the newest member of the ‘People Who Know About Darcy’s Big Secret’ club, and I’m still not totally in the loop yet.”

“It's not a club.” Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, where do you want me to start?”

“How about with you and Bucky getting engaged in Vegas after a whirlwind courtship, and you dumping him the next morning,” Jane suggested.

“Whirlwind courtship,” Natasha snorted. "That's one way to put it."

“So is giant fucking mistake.” Darcy reached for a chip, turning back to Jane. “Okay, so everything you just said happened, and then Bucky crashed here for a few weeks…”

“Excruciatingly _long_ weeks,” Nat said, amending Darcy’s statement.

“Fine. Excruciatingly long weeks…”

“I’m so sorry about that, Nat,” Jane interrupted. “That must have been awful for you and Steve.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Natasha responded.

“I can only imagine,” Jane said. 

“Excuse me, but who’s telling this story? Me or Natasha? Because I’m cool to just sit here and eat guacamole while she gives you the rundown,” Darcy said irritably.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jane apologized. “So after that, he goes home…”

“I made him go home,” Darcy told her. “It was in our list of rules.”

“Rules?” both girls said at the same time.

“Rules for _what_?”

“You know…” Darcy shifted uncomfortably under the twin incredulous gazes from her friends. “...for the relationship.”

A highly amused Natasha leaned across the counter, as if the rules might be somewhere on Darcy’s person to be read. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“As a heart-attack,” Darcy replied.

“Well that’s interesting. Either Bucky mentioned nothing about this to Steve, or my husband has finally figured out how to keep things from me. Which is a bit inconvenient and alarming, actually. Do you have them with you?” 

“No I do not, and stop looking at me like I’m some kind of weirdo. We needed the rules. Trust me.”

“Hold on.” Jane held a hand up to keep them from getting off track. “We’ll get back to the rules in a second, believe me we will, because I need to know all about that like I need air. Right now I’m still getting the timeline straight. Where were we before the rules came up?”

Nat reached for the bottle of wine sitting next to the pitcher of fauxjitos to refill her glass. “Bucky was finally off of our couch.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Jane waved her highball glass at her. “Bucky finally gave up his couch crashing hobo status and went home. What happened next?”

Darcy sighed. “Okay, I know I’m going to regret this, but something went down between the crashing and the uncrashing which is probably integral to your timeline. He came over to my place, I informed him that we created a Vegas zygote, and...we slept together.”

Jane set her drink down on the counter with a loud clink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I knew it,” Natasha said smugly. 

“You didn’t _know_ it.”

“Fine. I suspected it. Make that strongly suspected. And while we’re on the subject, let me guess, not sleeping together is in the rules?” 

“Yes...and...okay, did I not just specifically as you two to stop looking at me like that?” Darcy snapped. “It was pregnancy hormones, and poor life decisions, and...” 

“A really hot firefighter making a housecall?” Natasha offered dryly. “Between you and me, I know that feeling all too well.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she replied. “I mean, okay, yes, it _was_ like that...but it really wasn’t.”

“Well, that clears everything up,” Jane said. 

“I’m glad it does for you, because all it did was confuse the fuck out of things for me.” Darcy shook her head. “The truth is, I don’t know why I did it. I just really wanted him, and I still really want him, and honestly, I have no idea what do about all the feelings I’m having about Bucky, and the baby, and the whole damn thing in general.”

She stared furiously at the fauxjito in her hand, determined not give in to the hormones and cry again. As soon as she realized what was up, Jane pushed off her barstool so she could wrap her arms around Darcy’s shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Darce, neither one of us is judging you, I swear it. And believe me, I understand all about pregnancy cravings.”

“I’m not talking about food, Jane. I’m talking about sex.”

“So am I,” Jane replied. “Honestly, I think Thor went on that fishing trip last weekend just to give himself a break. I’ve been a little...enthusiastic...in the bedroom lately.”

“Enthusiastic, or insatiable?” Natasha asked.

Jane shook her head ruefully. “Both. It’s a little embarrassing when your husband can’t walk across the room without you trying to rip his pants off. He was all about it at first...but then we had this incident with chocolate syrup, and maraschino cherries, and… What?”

“Maraschino cherries? _Really_? Jane Odinson, you kinky girl, you.” Darcy snickered into her drink. “What’s next? Vanilla whipped cream?”

The other girl bristled, pulling up on her barstool, and folding her arms across her chest. “Did you just call me vanilla?” 

“Is there going to be a throwdown over pregnancy sex in my kitchen?” Nat asked calmly. “If so, let me move the wine before it becomes a casualty.”

“Don’t worry, Nat. I’m too depressed over my inability to not bang Bucky anytime he appears in my radius for it to be a decent fight,” Darcy sighed.

“I’m not exactly sure why that’s a problem,” Natasha said, while topping off Darcy’s drink. “You’re a grown-up. He’s a grown-up. I’m pretty sure you’re entitled to sleep with the father of your baby. Anyway, it seems like you’re the one judging yourself over it, not us. That might be something you want to think about.” 

“Or talk about,” Jane said encouragingly, pulling her barstool over so she could sit closer to Darcy. “We’re here for you. You know? You’ve got friends who love you. None of us are going to let you go through this alone.”

“Bucky isn’t either as far as I can tell.”

Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise at Nat, who had just spoken. “How do you know that?”

“Because…” Natasha dredged a chip in the bowl of guacamole. “...he had a talk with Steve about it. Apparently you’re _all_ Bucky talks about. Not for nothing, Darcy, but even Steve is surprised at how well Bucky’s handling all of this. It seems like he’s made his mind up about you, and his main concern is how you feel about things. I don’t know him as well as Steve does, but I’d say that’s an important point to consider.”

“I know.” Darcy frowned. “His lack of freaking out is a whole other thing that’s kind of making me nervous.”

“Is it possible...and I know you hate hearing things like this, but bear with me here, Darce...that James Barnes is one of the rare, one hundred percent sincere humans on the planet? And that his interest in you is born out of decent motivations?” Jane asked. “I’m going to say a word right now, and you are not going to like it, but whatever. I think he has the potential of being a keeper.”

“Ugh, Jane. Ugh. It’s also extremely possible that you are just a hopeless romantic who uses terms like ‘keeper’ and ‘true love’,” Darcy replied. “That’s not me, that’s my dad. Did you know he _still_ talks about how my mom was his true love? He can’t let it go. How stupid is that? He never stopped loving her, no matter how shitty she was to him. So excuse me if I’m a little skeptical about words like ‘keeper’.”

Natasha leaned her elbows onto the counter, tilting her head a bit, and said, “Not that what you just said isn’t valid, but Bucky’s nothing like your mother, Darcy. It’s certainly possible that none of this will work out, but if it doesn’t, it won’t be because he’s decided to join some bohemian art commune and abandon his family. He’s just not the type. I swear, sometimes it’s like Steve and Bucky were born in a different generation, although in Bucky’s case, it’s not surprising given that his grandparents raised him.”

Darcy glanced up from her drink. “You knew about that?”

“I’ve met them,” Nat said. “You know that place over on Clemmons with the picket fence and the perfect geranium border? That’s where they live.”

“Bucky’s grandmother is perfect geranium lady?” Jane asked.

Darcy knew the house. It was like something a child would draw as the model example of a home. White with green shutters, neatly trimmed hedges under each window box, and not so much as a stray twig marring the flawless expanse of yard.

“Well that clinches it. His grandmother is going to hate me,” she groaned. “I’m the furthest thing from geraniums and picket fences ever. Plus, I totally banged her grandson and then had the audacity to get knocked up.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m fairly certain she’ll realize Bucky participated in the creation of your offspring.”

“Yeah, but Nat, _he’s_ not the one pregnant,” Darcy said. “I am. You know how it works with that generation. The girl is always to blame in these situations, while the boy gets some ‘wild oats’ excuse. There’s no way Bucky’s grandparents are going to be okay with me popping out their illegitimate grandbaby. They’ll probably think I’m a trashy wreck. You don’t...you don’t think he told them, do you? What if he did?”

She felt her stomach sink. Why hadn’t she thought to ask him about that? Super. A whole new thing for her to worry about. The pile was growing by leaps and bounds at this point. For the second time in less than an hour, Darcy wished her stupid virgin drink was a hell of a lot less virgin. She must have looked sick, because Jane snapped into action, dumping the fruit out of a nearby bowl, and shoving it under Darcy’s chin. At the same time, Nat yanked open a drawer, grabbed a handful of lollipops, and dropped them next to the bowl.

“Am I getting her hair, or are you?” she asked Jane.

Darcy looked down at the bowl, then up at her friends, affection for them flooding her whole being. “You two are awesome, did you know that?”

There was a smacking sound, and Darcy looked up to see Clint, who must have walked in during the whole bowl and lollipop fiasco, slapping the countertop to get her attention. “What? I’m not awesome too?” he signed once she made eye contact. “I brought the pizzas!”

He sure had brought the pizzas. The smell hit her like a mack truck, tomato sauce, bread, cheese...and, oh god, anchovies. Her stomach, which had actually been fine up until that moment, decided it was beyond done. She gagged, leaning over the bowl with both hands gripping the sides. Natasha quickly drew Darcy’s hair away from the splash zone. At the same time, Jane snatched up the pizza boxes and whisked them from the room. 

Darcy tried desperately to keep from retching up her fauxjito and chips, using one hand to spell out, “I’m sorry, Clint. It’s not you, or the pizza. I love you both, you know that.”

“I do,” he signed. “Love you too. Baby being a jerk?”

“Darcy managed a small smile. “The jerkiest.”

As she watched him return her smile, the upheaval in her stomach started to lessen. She slowly loosened the death grip she had on the bowl with her other hand, and straightened up. 

“I think I’m okay now,” she said to Nat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You can let go of my hair. False alarm.”

“Be that as it may,” Jane said, coming back in from outside, “I’m making an executive decision about the pizza. It’s not coming back in here. Anyone who wants a piece can eat it on the porch.”

Darcy could see Clint reading her friend’s lips as she spoke. He nodded, pulling up a barstool and sitting down. She tossed him a lollipop, and helped herself to one as well. 

“You guys are a better friends than I deserve,” Darcy spoke while she signed, and Clint shook his head.

“See there’s where you’re wrong. We’re exactly the right level of friends you deserve,” Jane replied. 

“While we’re on the subject of friendship, notice I’m not saying a word about seeing Barnes walking you home Saturday.” Clint grinned as his fingers spelled out the words. 

“You saw that?”

“I did. I saw you invite him inside too. You’re lucky Wade wasn’t home at the time to see it. Next time get Barnes to drive you home. This neighborhood is too small to keep anything secret for long.”

This time he said the words as well as signing them, probably for the benefit of Natasha and Jane, who couldn’t sign. Darcy always loved hearing Clint’s voice. Especially since he used it so rarely. That didn’t stop her from punching his arm in response to him at outing her on what went on after her brunch with Bucky, though.

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm. “What are you, five? Use your words, Darce!” 

Jane burst out laughing, and Darcy threw a tortilla chip at Clint. It bounced off his chest and skittered onto the countertop. Clint just shrugged, picked it up, and ate it. 

“So what happened after brunch, hmm?” Natasha asked.

“Nothing.”

“That was the complete opposite of convincing,” Jane remarked.

“I’m serious. Nothing happened. Or...okay, stuff started to happen, but Bucky brought up the rules, and how I sort of panicked after the last time something happened, and that was enough to put the brakes on the uh...happening that was...happening…” Darcy winced at her destruction of the English language, but Clint seemed focused on one point in particular.

“You two made rules???”

“Apparently so,” Nat told him. 

“Oh goody, are we back on the rules?” Jane asked. “Because I have all the questions if we are.”

Darcy dropped her head onto her arms on the table, hiding her face. “No. We’re not back on the rules. Go away.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely back on the rules,” Jane said. 

Clint tapped on her arm, waiting to respond until she tilted her head enough that she could see him. “They’re not going to let this go,” he signed.

She sighed. “I know.”

“You know what? What did he say?”

“That you aren’t going to let it go,” Darcy replied to Jane’s question.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Nat said. “But you’re getting a momentary reprieve. I’m going out for some porch pizza.”

“Oooh, me too.” Jane hopped off her stool, and headed for the screen door.

“Eat a piece for me,” Darcy called after them.

The door banged shut behind them, leaving her alone in the kitchen with Clint. He reached around her back, hand squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Then he leaned back, fingers flying as he said, “You know, even if Bucky wasn’t stepping up, you wouldn’t be alone. There’s them…” He gestured at the two women eating pizza on the porch. “...and there’s me. Plus, I’m not above kicking his ass if he doesn’t do right by you. Wade would want a piece of that too.”

“Wade definitely,” she said. “If only because he likes drama, and getting into fights.”

“Almost as much as macaroni and cheese,” Clint agreed, and she laughed.

“Yeah. That’s pretty true. I don’t think you’ll need to kick Bucky’s ass, though. _I’m_ kind of the one who’s acting like Eggos here. Waffle waffle.”

He nodded. “I figured. You have your reasons. They’re good reasons. Real reasons. I get that, but Darce? I saw you with him on Saturday, and you looked…” He stopped signing, hands stilling in the air, and head cocked at her as if he were thinking.

“I looked what?” Darcy prompted after a few more seconds of silence ticked by. “Clint?”

He glanced at something over her shoulder, set both hands down on the counter, and said slowly, “Comfortable. Happy. I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe Vegas wasn’t as big of a mistake as you keep telling yourself it was.”

“You really think that?”

“We do,” Jane said, breezing back in from the porch. 

“And we’re right,” Nat added.

Darcy pushed her lollipop into her cheek so she could mumble around it, “I still kind of think you’re wrong, but whatever.”

“Is it just me, or does she sound like she doesn’t really believe that? Any minute now we’ll move from denial to acceptance,” Clint signed and spoke at the same time. 

“That’s the grieving process, dumbass,” Darcy replied. 

He shrugged. “I’m still right.”

“Go eat your porch pizza, Clinton,” she suggested while glaring at him.

Clint held both hands up in surrender, signing, “Let me know when you’re ready for the plain cheese.”

“I’m good with my lollipop, thanks.”

“That’s fine. More for me.”

The screen door slapped shut behind him, and Darcy pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, frowning at it. “Don’t listen to him. You’re totally better than pizza. I’m not barfing or anything right now, and believe me, that’s a huge plus.”

“Talking to the lollipop now?” Nat asked.

“We’re very close,” Darcy replied. 

Jane glanced down at her hugely rounded stomach and frowned. “Apparently _someone_ decided to sit right on mommy’s bladder. Occupational hazard of being pregnant. Be right back.”

She disappeared down the hall, muttering something about the baby needing to either take up less room or move out. Natasha waited until they were the only ones in the kitchen before setting herself on the barstool Jane had vacated. Then she hooked a finger around the stem of her wineglass, and pulled it over in front of her.

“So. About this list of rules...how bad are they?” she asked.

“They’re not bad,” Darcy said. “Not really. I just needed something to stick to. You know? Something that made sense in all the not making sense.”

Natasha nodded. “Stability?”

“Yeah. Kind of. It sounds really stupid, right?”

“It sounds like a way of coping. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Darcy sighed. “Yeah. I guess. Right now I just feel like an idiot who would rather make a list than deal with reality.”

“Darcy, you _are_ dealing with reality. Trust me. So is he.”

“By ‘he’ I assume you mean Bucky, and I still can’t figure out why he’s dealing with it so much better than I am.”

“Maybe that’s a question you should ask him,” Nat said.

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right. Now, since pizza is clearly not on the menu, could I interest you in some finely crafted soda crackers?”

“Do they come with a moratorium on relationship-related discussion for the next few hours?”

“If that’s what you need,” Natasha responded.

“Then yes. I will have all the crackers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I met that guy right there. I'm still kinda lightheaded over it, tbh. He was ridiculously nice, you guys. Friendly, and sweet, and took so damn long talking to his fans that he ran out of time during the autograph stuff, and had to split it up. I only wish I'd gotten a better picture, but I was stupidly nervous, and my hands were shaking. Plus, I'm more or less inept with the camera on my phone. It's sad, really. Somehow I always manage to get it on weird settings, and weird color schemes...and honest to god, no one should ever put me in charge of any kind of technology, because I will inevitably screw it up. Sigh.
> 
> Also, Annie is the most amazing, awesome, cool person ever. We had the best damn time while she was here, and I wish she lived closer so we could hang out more often. I guess it's my turn to visit her next. (I almost feel sorry for NOLA, because both of us together is like a force of nature. Not to mention we are the flakiest flakes that ever flaked, and I can only imagine how the New Orleans bar scene is going to enhance that, let me tell ya.) :D


	7. How to Get Super Creative in Ten Steps or Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Bucky's finally happens...along with some not exactly rule breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry about the update delay. I really am trying to keep to a weekly schedule, but I'm also working on a wintershieldshock collab with Anniemar, and sometimes that means slower updates. Plus, this chapter went through about ten million revisions before I was happy with it. It's good now, though, so YAY! (It's also nsfw so yay to that as well.)
> 
> All this being said, there probably won't be an update next week. Super fun family stuff is going to be happening, and I don't think I'll have time to work on fic. I was working like a crazy person to get stuff done before Saturday, and I hoped to get two chapters done here, but no dice. It's just been too busy. Once the dust settles, I'll get a chapter out. I promise. :)
> 
> *****************************************************************

Bucky’s home was everything he said it was. Lived-in but well cared for, with a cozy porch swing hanging from the beams out front. Shelves full of meticulously dust-jacketed vinyl lined one side of the living room. The furniture was a little on the contemporary side, and Darcy was pretty sure a few of the pieces were vintage mid-century modern. This theory was born out when she asked about a low slung, wooden frame chair with thick, square cushions, and Bucky explained how he’d liberated it from a second-hand store a few years earlier.

He hadn’t lied about being able to make lasagna. It was delicious. They sat across from each other at his dining room table, his legs stretched out far enough that the toes of her shoes bumped his a few times while they ate. An easy, flirtatious conversation started to weave its way between bites of food. Eventually Darcy realized that she’d stretched her legs out too, and he had his feet framing hers in under the table.

After a minute or two, she felt the side of his sneaker rubbing gently against her ankle in a way that was far to purposeful to be an unconscious move on Bucky’s part. She looked over at him, and he immediately stopped and glanced away, mischievous smile flashing on his face. The flirting continued all the way through the meal and into dessert, igniting a slow burn inside her that left her wanting more.

After they were done, he gathered up the plates and heading into the kitchen. She followed, carrying their drinking glasses, and stopped short when he began filling up the sink with water.

“We’re hand-washing them?” Darcy asked, glancing around for a dishwasher that apparently didn’t exist.

“No, I’m hand-washing them,” Bucky said. “You’re keeping me company.”

“What, you think I can’t wash a dish?”

“You’re my guest. Guests don’t do dishes”

“I see.” She walked her fingers along the counter until the bumped into a neatly folded dishcloth. “What about drying? Can guests dry?”

Bucky leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest, and acted like he was sizing her up. “Well that all depends. Are you any good? Because I can’t have my dishes dried by a rank amateur.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve won the state dish drying championships three years running. In fact, this year I’m planning on going to nationals.”

To his credit, Bucky didn’t even blink. “Oh yeah? Where are they this year? Chicago?”

“Indianapolis,” she replied, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “Chicago hosted last year.” 

“Those are some serious credentials. Alright then, Bennet, grab the rag and let's see what you can do.”

She joined him at the sink, hips and shoulders bumping every so often as they went to work. Doing the dishes turned out to be way more problematic than Darcy had expected. Mostly because it should not have been a thing that turned her on...but it was. Each time he passed a plate or piece of cutlery over for her dry the brief contact sent tingles straight to certain parts of her that had no business tingling over doing something as innocuous as drying dishes.

By the time they got to the drinking glasses, Darcy was practically desperate for more than just fleeting touches. Bucky must have been feeling it as well, because as she reached for the last cup, he caught her pinky finger in his, and held on until she risked a glance up at him.

One glance was all it took. The cup she was drying tumbled back into the water with a splash, and his hands, still soapy with detergent, were pulling her in for a kiss. And what a fucking kiss it was. She had her fingers tangled in his hair in seconds, body practically singing with need as she backed him across the kitchen so he was pressed up against the pantry door. Darcy rolled her hips into his, fingers working the buttons open on his shirt. She had it halfway undone when he caught both her hands in his, halting their progress.

“I hate to sound like a broken record with the rules… Believe me I do, but we’re moving into dangerous territory here, Darcy,” Bucky said, gaze burning into hers.

“I like dangerous territory,” she replied.

“Me too, but if we keep that up, I’m gonna want to take you upstairs.”

“Oh yeah? What happens if we go upstairs?” Darcy purred. Then she stretched up on her toes and licked his neck in a spot she'd discovered was a thing for him when they were still in Nevada.

“ _Fuck_.” Bucky closed his eyes, letting the back of his head thud against the pantry door. His face screwed up almost like he was in pain, and he deliberately banged his head two more times before his eyes opened again. “You _know_ what happens if we go upstairs, doll, and I hate to say this, but I think maybe we shouldn’t. We’ve got a good thing right now. Breakfast together was good. Us talking all week was good. You coming over for dinner was better than good. I’m trying to build something here, and that all fell apart the last time we broke the rules.”

“I see.” Darcy nodded, trying to stop herself from politely requesting that he shut up, and fuck her against his kitchen wall. It wasn't easy. She finally settled on something a little less than what she wanted, but still better than nothing. “What if we go upstairs and don’t break them?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s any chance of not breaking them if we go up there, Darce. I’ve only got so much ability to say no to you, and it’s starting to wear thin.”

“You really think we can’t get around the rules? Where’s your imagination, Bucky Barnes?” she asked. 

“It stalled out when you started taking off my clothes. Help me out, here, doll. What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting we get creative. You know...rule breaking without breaking the actual rules. Unless you don’t want to.”

He huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? I want it. Fuck me, I do, but it’s not worth you freezing me out again.”

“I’m not going to freeze you out.”

“I want to believe that.”

“You should. It’s the truth. And anyway, you were the one who couldn’t get out of the bed fast enough the last time we had sex,” Darcy said. “I came back into my room, and there you were, dressed and ready to go. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Remember? I wasn’t freezing you out. I was… I was hurt.” That still stung, walking in from the bathroom to find him standing there like he couldn’t wait to get out of her apartment now that the fun part was over. Darcy couldn’t believe how much. She stood up, arms folded across her chest, feeling the humiliation of it wash over her again. “You know what? I think you’re right. We shouldn’t do this. I’m gonna go. Thanks for dinner.”

“Wait.”

“Nope.” She started for the kitchen door, but barely got three steps before Bucky stepped in front of her, blocking it. Darcy glared at him, motioning for him to get out of the way and let her through. “Move.”

“I will. Just give me one second to explain.”

“I’m sorry, did you not hear me? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Fine.” He took a step back. “I shouldn’t have stopped you. You’re free to leave if that’s what you want.” She made a bee-line for the door, hand reaching out for the knob, when he said, “Or you can give me a chance to set the record straight before you go off half-cocked.”

“ _I’m_ half-cocked?” She turned, and glanced pointedly down at the front of his pants with a snort. “Whatever, Bucky. Say what you have to say, so I can get out of here.”

He did, the words rushing out like he thought she might just make a run for the door at any moment despite saying she’d listen to his explanation. He wasn't far off the mark. Darcy was considering it.

“I didn’t want to leave the other night. I wanted to stay. I wanted it so bad. You don’t know how bad.” Bucky scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “It was _all_ I wanted.”

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you?” 

“Because you didn’t ask me. You’ve gotta believe me, Darcy. I wasn’t sure where we stood, or how you felt, and when you left the bedroom I figured maybe I’d already overstayed my welcome, and you were giving me a cue to go.”

“You thought I wanted you to leave?”

“Honestly, I had no idea what was going through your mind. All I knew was that you bolted from the room as soon as we were done, and you didn’t seem happy about what had just gone down. What was I supposed to think?”

All the fight drained out of Darcy as his words sunk in. She stood across the kitchen from him, shaking a little bit from emotion, and hormones, and whatever else was churning around in her system. God. The whole thing was a mess. _Her_ mess. “I wanted you there,” she whispered. 

“You wanted me there.” Bucky looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor, seconds dragging by before he spoke again. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Because it’s hard for me to admit that kind of stuff. That I want someone, or need someone, or can’t handle things on my own. I’ve got all these issues that I can’t seem to get past, and it sucks. I hate that I let my fears get in the way and control my decisions. I hate that my mom walking out made me like this...and I hate, _hate_ , that you’ve been nothing short of amazing, and I’ve responded by treating you like it’s all your fault. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve my shitty behavior, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you at this point.” 

“Don't say that."

"Why not? It's all true," she said bitterly. 

"You haven't been shitty to me. You've been scared. After what you've had to deal with growing up, it's understandable. I respect your reasons for asking me to prove myself. Not to mention the fact that we’re still getting to know each other,” Bucky replied. “Anyway, there are things worth proving yourself. You and the baby are definitely in that category. I can be patient.”

“Bucky, I’ve been a trainwreck, just admit it.”

“You’re not a trainwreck. Maybe a little bit of a rollercoaster, but not a trainwreck.”

“A roller coaster. Great.”

“Hey, I’m not asking to get off the ride,” he assured her. “But maybe you could give me a little warning before we go off the rails next time. I could put the brakes on or something.”

“You know a roller coaster going off the rails is just a small scale trainwreck, right? It’s basically the same metaphor...just with more cotton candy induced vomiting.”

“Yeah well, metaphors aren’t my strong point.”

“Oh really? And what is your strong point?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, ducking his head slightly so he could catch her eye. “How about making you smile?”

“Nope. I don’t think that’s it either,” she replied.

“You say that, but I happen to know that you’re going to smile any second now. It’s a fact.”

Despite every attempt to refrain, Darcy could feel her lips starting to turn up. “No I’m not.” 

“Is that so?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Then what’s that thing your mouth is doing?”

“Reverse frowning. It’s a thing.” Even Darcy had to admit that her argument was less than compelling, and it was obvious that he thought so too.

“You must have knocked ‘em dead on your school debate team,” Bucky said. “Were you team captain...or....?”

“You know, Barnes, you’re on precarious ground here.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s another one of my strong points.”

She snorted. “Mine too.”

“We should work on that,” he said. “But since I’m already on precarious ground, I'm gonna go for broke, and ask if you want to stay here with me tonight.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Subject changes aren’t your strong point either. Did you really just go from a state of the union on our relationship to asking me to sleep over?”

“Think I did. Although just to clarify, I’m not asking for sex. Just for you, in my bed, spending the night. Consider it a do-over for our miscommunication the other night.”

“A do-over?” She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he legit crazy? “I’m sorry, do you really think we can spend a night in the same bed, and not hook up?”

“I like challenges.”

“Bucky, there are challenges, and then there is you thinking we can make through a night in bed together and _not_ end up going at it. I mean, have you met us? We have a terrible track record.”

Bucky grinned at her and shrugged. “Two out of four isn’t such a bad track record.”

“Yeah but we both know it would be four out of four had you not put the kibosh on things twice, and oh my god.” She winced as the truth occurred to her. “Oh my GOD. _I’m_ the one with a bad track record, aren’t I? It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“Trust me, Darce, you wanting to fuck me is the complete opposite of a problem,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t a willing participant.”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to respond to that. How did we get from lasagna to whatever this is right now? We’re never going to have a normal conversation, are we?” 

“Probably not. Spend the night with me, Darcy. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Darcy wondered when having sex with a really hot guy who acted like she’d personally hung the moon had become the worst thing that could happen. What even was her life anymore? She took a deep breath, and scrubbed both hands over her face before answering. “Okay. Say I do spend the night, because I am a person with zero sense of self-preservation obviously, and I really want to stay the night. What if we do this, and we can’t keep our hands off each other like usual?”

“Then we do what you suggested, and get creative,” Bucky said. “There’s nothing on that list that says we can’t skirt the rules, right?”

“What if I say yes to skirting the rules, and then freak out afterwards?” 

“I have a contingency plan for that,” he replied, reaching out and taking her hand in both of his.

Bucky’s grip was warm, thumbs rubbing soothingly over her skin. She let him use the contact to pull her closer until there was a scant few inches between them. 

“What kind of contingency plan?” Darcy asked, knowing even as she said the words that she’d decided to spend the night.

“Nothing too fancy. I’m just gonna leave you so satisfied that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be but in my arms.” 

Darcy’s heart started tripping in her chest. She took a deep breath in an attempt to get it under control, but it was impossible. Bucky going into full on boy-next-door seduction mode was wrecking her. They were _so_ about to get creative. Maybe even super-creative. 

“So, what do you say, doll? Want to sleep over? I promise I’ll walk you home in the morning. I’ll even kiss you on your doorstep.”

“Fine, but I’m only saying yes because I like being kissed on my doorstep. It’s definitely not because you’re hitting me with a hardcore smolder or anything.”

He leaned in closer, lips shifting up into a smirk. “I have a smolder?”

“Shut up, Bucky.”

“No, I want to pursue this. No one’s ever accused me of smoldering before. Maybe we should call Steve. Ask if he’s ever seen it. You know, just to see if you’re right or not.”

“Shut. Up. Bucky.” Darcy repeated the sentence while poking him in his chest on every word. His mostly naked chest, because his shirt was still half unbuttoned, and sweet baby Jesus help her, it was kind of like poking a living breathing Adonis. 

“You know, Bennet, I’m pretty sure my smolder is up here, but if you want to keep staring at my pecs go ahead. Be my guest.”

“God, you’re an ass. You’re just…” She cut off the rest of her words without finishing the sentence and shook her head at him. “You know what? Let’s just go upstairs. Maybe that will shut your mouth up.”

“I know somewhere I’d like to _put_ my mouth that would shut me up,” Bucky replied. “As long as that falls under skirting the rules. Does it?”

Darcy’s brain promptly disengaged and melted down. She looked up at him, tried not to swallow her tongue at the heated expression on his face, and then said, “It does now. Where’s your goddamn bedroom, Barnes?”

“Through here, straight up the stairs, second door on the lefthand side.”

“Great. Good to know. Let’s go there. Now.”

That was all it took to get him moving. How they actually got to his room was kind of a blur to Darcy. She vaguely remembered losing her shoes in the dining room, and most of the rest of her clothes between the bottom and the top of the stairs. Bucky was similarly undressed by the time they were passing the first door, but somehow, _somehow_ Darcy managed enough cognizant thought to ask, “How many bedrooms does your house have?”

It’s a foursquare,” he managed to get out between the swath of kisses he was trailing down her neck. “So there’s mine, a guest room, an office, and the one I want to make into a nursery for the baby if you agree to it.”

The hammering of her heart stilled for just a second as she put both hands on his shoulders to put a little space between them. “Hold on, did you just say you’re planning a nursery?”

Bucky drew back, looking deliciously rumpled and confused. Not that Darcy faulted him. He’d finished with her neck, and was becoming more intimately acquainted with her breasts when she interrupted him. “What?” 

“You said something about a nursery?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I had hoped that maybe that would be something you wanted too. You know, that you and the baby would stay here. With me. Eventually that is. There’s no pressure. If it’s not something you want that’s okay.” She could hear the anxiety creeping back into his voice with each word. “Listen, it’s just an idea. Nothing is set in stone. Jesus, doll, say something. I’m starting to think I just scared you off again.”

Darcy wanted to respond, but she was trying to hold back the tidal wave of longing that his words had produced. There were subjects in her life she did her best to avoid. Anything involving family was usually at the top of that list, and there was a very good reason for that. Despite the absolute shit her mother had been, or possibly because of it, Darcy craved those kinds of ties, and she hated that she craved them. It left her too vulnerable. Lately, though, Bucky had been chipping away at the dam holding them back. It wasn’t broken, not yet, but little trickles were starting to get through.

She wanted the nursery. The nursery, and Bucky, and everything that came with wanting both, and that scared the shit out of her. So instead of answering she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his with every ounce of feeling that wanting produced. He staggered backwards for a second, then caught himself and her, responding with a fervor that made Darcy’s toes curl.

“Please tell me we’re at your bedroom,” she said urgently. The hall seemed to be getting the longer by the second, and all she wanted to do was get him horizontal on a flat surface.

“Yeah. Here.” One of his hands left her body, and then she heard knob turning. A door swung open behind her, and they stumbled over the threshold together. 

“Just between you and me,” she said, as the mattress bumped the backs of her knees, and she tumbled backwards onto it, “you are the sexiest firefighter I ever hooked up with. Not that I ever hooked up with another firefighter, but if I did? You’d still be the sexiest. Seriously.”

Bucky responded with a loud burst of laughter, sliding on top of her and caging her in with his arms. Darcy was weighed down by the press of his body, hot and lean, as he dipped his head so he could kiss her. Minutes got lost as they tangled together on his blankets and sheets. At first he was on top, and then she was, legs straddling his hips and mouth traveling down his chest. She shifted further down until she was kneeling beside him, scattering kisses across his abs and hipbones. 

“How’s creative working for you?” she asked, hooking her fingers into the sides of his boxer briefs so she could tug them down. Before he could answer, she took him in her hand, running her tongue around the head of his cock.

“I can’t believe I almost said no to this,” he muttered.

“You were being a gentleman,” Darcy said. “I think anyway. Looking out for my best interests or whatever.”

Bucky lifted himself up on his elbows, watching while she licked him from base to tip. His eyelids fluttered, muscles tensing as she engulfed his erection in her mouth. There was a soft thump as he dropped back onto the bed with a groan. She started to move, the smooth feel of his skin sliding over her tongue, working him over until he his hips were keeping time with her mouth, and his breath was stuttering on every stroke.

“Darce,” he panted, fingers touching her cheek. “You might...might want to… I’m gonna…”

She glanced up at him, eyes meeting his, and winked. Bucky made a low sound, deep in his throat, hips lifting as began to come, hot liquid spilling across her tongue. She sat up once he was done, gleefully taking stock of how badly she’d ruined him. One of his arms was splayed out across the bed, and the other was thrown across his face. His cheeks were pink, breathing still rapid and rough.

“How hard did I rock your world just then?” Darcy inquired, giving him a final lick.

Bucky lifted his arm, squinted at her, and said, “Get up here, and I’ll tell you.”

“Uh-uh. If you want me, you’re gonna have to come and get me.”

He moved faster than she expected, sitting up and snagging her around the waist with both arms. Then he rolled them so she was under him, breathless and giggling. 

“You were saying?” His head bent over hers, seeking out her mouth.

“Nothing. I definitely wasn’t bragging about the amazing blowjob I just gave you or anything,” she replied just before he put her lips to better use.

Darcy couldn’t explain it, but something about his kisses were different from anyone else she’d ever been with. She’d noticed it that first night in Vegas, and had tried to ignore it, but it had happened every time since as well, and it was getting hard to ignore. 

It wasn’t his lips, or his technique, although she had to admit that both were stellar. No. It was more the feelings that came with him holding her. She felt secure, cherished, like that space in Bucky’s arms, closest to his heart, was for her and her alone…and always had been. Like they were meant to be.

God, she was starting to sound just like Jane. There was no such thing as meant to be. There just wasn’t. Except Darcy had never wished to be wrong about something more in her entire life.

She was falling for Bucky. She was. Or she already had. The thought made her swallow hard. 

He pulled back, eyes scanning her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I like you,” she blurted out. “I… I like you, Bucky. And…”

“And?” he prompted after a decent pause from her.

“I guess that’s it. I’m processing it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “I like you too.”

“I know you do. _Why_ you do is mystifying, though.”

“You really don’t know why?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Well, let’s see if I can change that.” His lips grazed her jaw, pressing a kiss to her chin before leaving more along her neck until he reached her collarbone. There he stopped, looked up, and said, “You’re brave, and outspoken. You gave me shit the first time I met you, and I loved every second of it.” A few more kisses followed until he reached the tops of her breasts. “You make me laugh. When you’re not driving me crazy that is, but I’m okay with that.” He took a nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around it briefly. “You treat your friends like they’re family. I’ve seen it. The way you care about them is incredible. I want you to look at me like that.” Bucky moved to the other breast, doing the same thing there. “You’re gorgeous. You make me so hot. I was hard at dinner just looking at you.” 

Shivers traveled over her body with every brush of his mouth on her skin as he started working his way down her belly, stopping just below her navel. “What else?” she whispered.

“You’re carrying my child. I can’t even describe how that feels, but it means everything.” His lips lingered on the small bump containing their baby, eyes meeting hers as he kissed it. Then his lips drifted lower, following his hand as he drew the edge of her panties over to kiss her there too, and she gasped. Bucky’s voice vibrated over her sensitive skin when he spoke. “I like how you taste. How you feel. How wet you get for me when we’re fooling around and fucking.” His tongue dipped into her folds, licking up over her clit. “How am I doing so far with the explanation of why I like you, doll?” 

“I um...might need a little more convincing.”

Bucky’s mouth covered her clit, licking and sucking. “How about now?”

“Little more. Almost there.”

She felt this thumbs on her, spreading her apart, and then his tongue was back swirling, teasing, flicking against her clit like he couldn’t get enough. Darcy arched on the bed, one hand blindly reaching to touch him. Her fingers met the soft brush of Bucky’s hair, curling in it with a gentle tug. She was so close, so very close, and then she was there, unspooling and coming apart with his name on her lips.

He kissed his way back up her body afterwards, mouth leaving soft imprints on her curves. 

“I like you, Darcy,” he said, breath warm on her throat. “And I’ll tell you any way you need to hear it until you believe me.”

She exhaled, forcing her noisy brain, just this once, to fall into silence. “I believe it.”

Not long after that, Darcy fell asleep. Her head was tucked into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder, and her hand resting on his chest. Both his arms were around her, holding her close. They were still around her when she woke up in the early hours of Sunday morning with the knowledge that that something far more important had happened than them just spending the night together.

It was so different from waking up with him in Vegas. Back then she was trying to escape under cover of early morning darkness before he realized she was gone. It been a humiliating mess of locating her clothes from where they were strewn all over Bucky’s suite, and leaving the ring for him to find when he woke up. 

This time, though, Darcy found herself wishing she had more time to stay right where she was. She could feel the steady rise and fall of each breath he took under her cheek. There was something so solid, and comforting about it, and after weeks of feeling like she was dealing with constant indecision, she’d finally made up her mind.

She knew herself too well to think her days of cynicism were completely over, but it was past time for her to take a chance and let someone in. So for now, in the quiet of Bucky’s room, and the safety of his embrace, Darcy gave herself time to think, breathe, and remember night before.


	8. Corrupting Mrs. Butterworth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after 'getting creative' dawns with french toast, confessions, and a decision that will change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the slow updates here, but real life is always my first priority, and sometimes that means getting things written takes longer than I'd like. This has been one of those times. :) In related news, we got a brand new puppy. Hooray! She's amazing. She's also smaller than a tea kettle. (I checked, because this morning I was looking at her and thinking 'Holy Cats this dog is smol. Let me see if she's bigger than this kettle.') But yes. Very smol, very adorable puppy. If you saw her, you totally would not blame me for the slow updates. She looks like an oreo cookie in dog form, and we got her from a local rescue who saved her from a hoarding situation, and omg, she is awesomesauce. So, yeah. New puppy responsibilities have taken over a little bit right now. But here is the chapter, and, fingers crossed, you will all enjoy it. :D Also. The next chapter will have more...um...syrup. I'm not gonna explain that for spoiler reasons, but you'll know what I'm talking about in a couple minutes anyway.
> 
> **************************************************************

He made her breakfast. He. Made. Her. Breakfast. Darcy was still staring at the plate full of butter and syrup enhanced french toast with something close to disbelief. There was bacon, too. And he'd brought her saltines in bed too. A ridiculous amount of saltines, actually. She was still sort of internally laughing over the cracker conversation.

When she awoke the second time, Bucky wasn’t in the bed. A few seconds of disorientation accompanied that discovery, followed by Darcy finding a post-it stuck on the screen of her phone.

_Bennet,_

_I’m making breakfast. I set out towels and stuff in the bathroom if you want to shower. The t-shirt is for you too. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me._

_-Bucky_

She peeled the note off the phone, and was still looking at it, when she heard a light knock on the door, and Bucky poked his head in. 

“I was just coming to see if you were up,” he said. “Coffee?” 

She nodded, and he approached the bed with navy blue mug in one hand. Darcy took it from him, cupping her hands around the warm porcelain. She inhaled deeply, making a happy noise as she breathed in the rich scent. “Thank you. You’re a saint.”

He suddenly looked nervous. One hand ruffled through his hair as he thrust the other into a pocket. “I uh, I wasn’t sure what to put in it, so I put everything. I can get you another if it’s not right.”

She took a sip, and smiled at him over the rim. “Nope. It’s perfect.”

“Good. So, I was thinking french toast. I’ve got everything ready to go if that’s alright with you and the baby.”

“We’re both in love with the idea. Can I just make one request?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” 

“Do you have a couple crackers I could eat first? It helps to keep my stomach settled if I eat them before getting out of bed. I swear I won’t get crumbs in your sheets.”

“Absolutely.” Bucky ducked down, mindful of the coffee mug still in her hand, and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll got get you some.”

“Where would I go? I’m mostly naked, Bucky. Well, mostly naked, with coffee.”

“I know.” He glanced down at her curves, barely hidden by his sheets, and smiled. “It’s a good look for you.”

Darcy considered losing the coffee and dragging him back into bed. Then her stomach churned, and her main focus switched to keeping it settled.

“Not to be a jerk, because that kiss was really nice, but...”

“Crackers first?”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, you don’t have to apologize for that. It’s half my fault anyway, right? I’ll be right back.”

He kissed her once more on the forehead before disappearing through the door, leaving Darcy alone with her coffee. It wasn’t long before Bucky was back with an entire box of saltines clutched in one hand. Darcy had to hold back a giggle when she saw it. Just how many did he think she needed?

“The overkill struggle is real, huh?” she teased as he held the box out to her. 

He shrugged, cheeks going a little pink despite his nonchalant response. “I thought ‘a couple’ might have been subjective.”

“Smart man. So, I'm gonna eat these and then shower. Meet you downstairs after?”

“Sounds good. Want bacon?”

“Is that even a question that you just asked me? Seriously?” she asked while digging into the cracker box.

Bucky grinned. “Bacon it is.”

“Yep. I’ll see you in a few. Right now I need to make close personal friends with these saltines.”

Darcy waved the box at him, shooing him out of the room. He went, and she could hear him whistling the whole way back down the steps. She ate the crackers between sips of coffee. Then she headed into the bathroom to shower. Stuck to the mirror was another note.

_Sorry I don’t have a spare toothbrush, but I figured after last night, you’d be okay with using mine. If you need anything else, just ask, or check the medicine cabinet._

She looked at the small pile of stuff on the bathroom vanity in disbelief. His toothbrush was sitting on top of a fluffy, dark blue towel and washcloth, along with a tube of toothpaste and a disposable razor. A razor. What guy even though of that? Not a single one she’d ever hooked up with before. That’s for damn sure. Another note was stuck to the toothpaste.

_I’m serious about you using my stuff. My medicine cabinet is your medicine cabinet, Bennet._

Darcy was still shaking her head at the little group of toiletries. The only explanation was that she’d acquired a fairy godmother who had personally created Bucky just for her. Either that or Jane was right about him being a keeper. 

She made a face. Not because she didn’t want Jane to be right...but because if she was, she was going to be absolutely insufferable about it. There would be triumphant crowing, and weeks of ‘I told you so’, followed by months of smug. Smug Jane was the worst. Smug Jane never needed to know about the razor, that was for sure. Darcy decided she was absolutely withholding that bit of information just before she hopped under the shower spray.

When she got out of the shower, Darcy found the t-shirt Bucky had mentioned in his note folded up under the towel he left for her. She dried off and tugged it over her head, inhaling in the clean cotton and fabric softener scent. Thankfully, she’d never gotten out of the habit of keeping a spare pair of underwear in the little makeup bag she kept in her purse, along with a tiny, travel size deodorant. It was a throwback to her respectably slutty college days when walks of shame, or all night parties, were a thing that happened often enough that an emergency morning after kit seemed like a good idea. It was her little way of feeling human after a night of total debasement...which, okay the night before hadn’t exactly been _total_ debasement, but it was still nice to put on clean underwear instead of the ones that had ended up on Bucky’s floor.

The man himself was still banging around in the kitchen when she stepped out into the hall after her shower. It gave her the opportunity to sneak down the hall to the room he’d said he was thinking of making into a nursery. There wasn’t much in it. A futon sat up against one wall, an acoustic guitar was propped up in a stand next to it, and a few guitar tab books were stacked on the floor nearby. 

The room had tons of potential, though. It was set in the corner of the house, with tall windows on two sides that let in bunches of light. Dark, old-fashioned varnish covered the floorboards. The walls were plain white. So blank canvas there. That was nice. it was also plenty big enough for a crib, and a changing table...and whatever else a baby needed. Darcy should probably figure out what that was at some point. 

The whole permanency of the nursery plan in regards to their fledgling relationship should have scared her. Normally it would have. But it just felt so good to let her guard down...even a little. Darcy was sick of keeping an arm’s length wall up all the time. She wanted to enjoy what she had: a guy who ate her out like his life depended on it, made her french toast the morning after, and wanted to put a nursery in his house for their zygote. She spent a few more minutes lost in thought as she stood in the doorway of the future nursery, and then slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Bucky was standing at the stove, flipping a piece of french toast with a red-handled spatula. He paused when she walked in wearing his t-shirt, eyes widening. “Wow. You look…”

Words seem to fail him, and he waved the spatula at her half-dressed form.

“Like I slept over at a boy’s house, and didn’t even have the decency to put pants on for breakfast?” she finished for him.

“I was gonna say beautiful, and in your defense, I only left you that t-shirt. No pants.”

“Was that intentional?”

He looked away grinning, then glanced back at her. “Possibly.”

“Well, at least we’re both total reprobates, because I saw my jeans on your dining room floor, and walked right past them without bothering to put them on,” Darcy said. “Where am I sitting?”

Bucky gestured towards a seat at his kitchen table. There was already a decent stack of french toast stacked on the plate in front of it. “Right there. I’ve just got to finish this one, and I’ll join you.”

Okay. There was definitely a fairy godmother involved. It was the only explanation Darcy could come up with. She pondered over that while she chewed her french toast. It was good. Not the best she’d ever had, that title went to some peach-and-cream cheese stuffed french toast she’d had after an all-night study session her senior year at Culver, but still. The man could cook.

He was really great at oral too. Sleeping over had been...well… Better than expected. So much better. All the better, really. Darcy could get used to the way it felt to have Bucky holding her through the night. And the way it felt to sit across the table from him in the morning, which was also pretty damn good. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, and she looked up from her french toast to find him studying her.

“Yeah, no. I mean, yes. I’m great,” she said, stumbling over the words. Perfect. Nothing like not being able to hold a conversation with the hot guy on the other side of the table after spending the night. She needed to get her shit together. “The french toast is great too, by the way.”

“Good. Old family recipe. So, anything you wanted to do today?”

“You want to do something today?”

She almost missed the disappointed flash in his expression, that’s how quickly he switched it to something more benign. 

“We don’t have to if you already have plans, or aren’t feeling it,” Bucky said evenly. “It’s up to you.”

“I don’t. Have plans that is. And I am feeling you.” Shit. _SHIT_. Had she just said that? Maybe he wouldn’t catch it. She should cover. Say something else. Something like... “Damn, this is some great french toast. Yum!”

“Yeah. You said that. And I said it was an old family recipe, which brings me back to asking you what you want to do today. You know, since you’re feeling _me_ , and all. Any thoughts on that?”

Okay, so he definitely caught it. Fantastic. Maybe she could quietly slid under her chair and die. Either that or act like nothing had happened. Brazen it out. Darcy went with option number two, and reached for her coffee mug. “I don’t know. Anything is cool. What did you want to do?” Ha. See. She was brilliant. She was smart. She was...

“Take you back to bed so you can wrap your thighs around my ears again,” Bucky replied. 

She was a wreck, sputtering as the sip of coffee promptly hitched a ride down the wrong pipe. It was ten kinds of embarrassing. Darcy’s eyes were watering, and her face was turning red, and Bucky actually jumped up from his place at the table, to smack her between the shoulder blades a few times in an effort to help.

“Sorry,” she said, waving him away.

“I’m gonna take you nearly choking to death as a 'no' to my suggestion.”

“I… Yeah. Wait. Really?” She knew how to talk. She did. Just not at the moment, obviously. “That’s really what you wanted to do?”

He was laughing now, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You questioning my enthusiasm for making you scream my name, Bennet?”

“I didn’t scream your name last night,” Darcy said. “Oh my god, did I? No. I didn’t. It was more like gasping your name. Maybe a little bit of moaning, and holy shit, you need to stop. I cannot think about this stuff right now, I’m trying to eat breakfast like a responsible adult, not have sex on the table.”

“No, I like that idea. Let me just move the syrup.” Bucky reached for it, and she snatched it away.

“Knock it off, jerk, or I’ll pour it on your head.” Her threat probably would sounded more, well… _threatening_ , had she not been laughing through the entire thing.

“What? You want to incorporate the syrup?” He cocked his head like he was thinking about it. “It’s a little kinky, but I like it. Let’s do it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious. We can’t have table sex.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” he said. “Pass me that syrup and we’ll see what happens.”

“ _Bucky_!”

He grinned at her. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Isn’t that what you said to me last night?”

“No, I asked where your imagination was.”

“Same difference.”

“No it’s not. Listen, you’ve really got to stop.”

“Okay. We can shelve the maple syrup and table sex if that’s what you really want.”

Darcy groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You don’t understand. The problem is that I _don’t_ want to shelve it. What I really want is to bang you on this table. With or without the syrup. I mean, I don’t normally use syrup for that, but I bet you could make it fun...and...oh god. I just said that out loud didn’t I?”

She peeked up at Bucky from between her fingers, to find he was most definitely smirking at her. Perfect. Probably the best thing she could do at this point was go mute and hide under the table for the rest of her life. 

“Darcy? Can I ask you a question?”

“That depends on what it is,” she said in a muffled voice.

“Is the whole table sex with optional syrup kink all hormones, or do you just really want to be with me?”

Hahaha, no. She wasn’t answering that. Mostly because answer wasn’t hormones. “Ummm…”

“Because I really want to be with you, and I’m trying so hard to understand why we can’t do that. I respect it, because you seem to need that boundary, but I just… I think we’re past it. Don’t you?”

She dropped her hands, forcing herself to face him. “I… Remember when I said I liked you?”

“I’m not likely to forget it.” His face was serious now, all traces of the smirk long gone.

“There’s something about you...about us? I can’t figure it out. All this is confusing as hell to me. I’m not that girl, you know?”

“What girl?”

“The girl who thinks things are meant to be. But you and me? This thing we have? You make me want to be one of those girls.”

It was a big admission. A stunning admission. The most terrifying admission of her life, really. 

Bucky got up and pulled his chair around to her side of the table so they were seated closer together. “Okay, Darcy, but what if I’m that boy? What if I think we’re meant to be?”

“Is that what all this has been about? The french toast, and the disposable razor, and the whole prince charming act?”

“You still think it’s an act?”

“No I think it’s real. Is it? Is it real?”

He propped his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to her. “Is that the question you really want to ask?”

“No.”

“So ask the question you really want to ask.”

“Do you feel it? The whatever it is that’s scaring the shit out of me? Do you feel it too?”

“I’ve felt it since the moment I saw you in Las Vegas, Darcy.” His gaze was calm and steady, but underneath it she could see a glimpse of nerves showing through. He was afraid of her reaction. That much was clear.

Darcy caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it for a second. “Me too. I didn’t want to feel it. I don’t know what to do with it, but you? You seem so sure of it. Like it was something you knew would happen. Why?”

“Because, like I said, I’m that kind of boy.”

“That’s it? You just know?”

Bucky nodded. “I just know. Sounds crazy, right?”

“Completely,” she agreed. “Normally I’d be running away right about now.”

“But you aren’t.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Sooo, what’s that mean for us?”

“It means...” Darcy took a deep breath. “It means whatever this thing is that we have? I’m in. So please, don’t hurt me.”

He went absolutely still, scanning her face like he was trying to read her mind. “I won’t.”

“I’m serious. Don’t hurt me, because I don’t do this. I don’t even really know _how_ to do this, but I want to be with you.”

“Did you just ask me to go steady with you, Bennet?”

His lips were twitching, and his face was lighting up, and Darcy really wanted to be a sarcastic little shit right back at him, because going steady? Really??? But she couldn’t. Not when he was looking at her like that.

“Shut up, Bucky. Yes.”

There was a kiss coming, and Darcy was more than ready for it. Bucky was leaning in again, hands reaching for her face, when he stopped. 

“I won’t hurt you. I swear it,” he said. “We might disagree. We might argue. Stuff will get said that we both might regret, but I can promise you right now, what your mother did? I will never do that. If one of us walks away here, it is going to be you. And don’t think if that happens, I won’t fight for us, because I will. I won’t be able to help myself. Not unless you tell me to stop. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She shifted towards him and whispered, “Bucky? You can do the kissing thing now.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” 

Then he did, and it was… Well, it was better than the french toast. He tasted like sweet maple and citrus from the orange juice, and one thing led to another pretty quickly which Darcy was fine with. Better than fine with, actually. Bucky had one hand up her shirt, and the other was coaxing her into his lap when she pulled back and said, “Where did we put that syrup?”

“Syrup?” His brow furrowed briefly. “Oh. _OH_. No. Really?”

“Are you going to do the whole rule breaking speech again, because I promise you, it’s unnecessary. We are fucking destroying that rule right fucking now, and I solemnly swear that I won’t panic afterwards. Besides, we broke it last night. Oral sex is still sex, I don’t care how creative we told ourselves we were being.”

Bucky shoved the plates and silverware to the far side of the table. “You haven’t even seen creative yet, doll. Trust me.”

“Am I about to?”

“Yes you are.” He picked up the syrup bottle. “Get on the table.”

Darcy wondered if Mrs. Butterworth would need therapy after. “Should we maybe put tape over her eyes or something?” she asked, pointing at the bottle. “I feel bad. Like we’re traumatizing a childhood icon or something.”

“Darcy. Get on the goddamn table.”

She got on the table. Well, first she pulled off his shirt, _then_ she got on the table, scooting back so that she was sitting with her legs dangling off the edge. “How’s this?”

He looked at her, gaze slowing as it coasted over her breasts. “Almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

“Mmmhm.” Bucky thumbed the lid open on the Butterworth’s bottle with a little snick. “Needs syrup.”


	9. Fanning the Flames of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky receives a bombshell at work that stirs up the past, and may change the course of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. We're getting into firefighter stuff here, and I'll be the first to admit that I am not a firefighter. I basically went to the Google Fire Academy in order to write this chapter...which is hardly the same thing as actually knowing what I'm talking about. SO, we are gonna pretend I did not play fast and loose with the rankings in a fire company to keep Steve as a Captain and have it make sense. (Because technically there would be a quite a few steps between him and Bruce, but for my purposes, I need them to be one step apart in ranking) Also, I have a feeling Bucky would not have been put in charge of the investigation in real life, but if we all squint, it fits. (And I need it for the plot) To recap, I am not an expert by any means, and if you are, please forgive my mistakes. Sometimes you just gotta fake it to make it, and I swear no actual firefighters were harmed in the writing of this chapter. ;D
> 
> In other news, I feel like every time I post a new chapter lately, I'm apologizing for making my amazing readers wait. Basically, my life has gotten very hectic in the past month or so. Right now there's no end in sight, and real life is always going to come first. I love this fic. I love writing it. It will be finished. Normally I'm a pretty quick updater, but I just can't promise a weekly update schedule right now, because it isn't feasible for me. Some weeks it might happen, and others it might not. I'll just keep plugging away on chapters in my spare time, and getting them up when they're ready. Hopefully everyone is okay with that. It's the best I can do at the moment until things settle down. <3 <3 <3
> 
> **************************************************

_French toast flavored kisses…_

“Hey, Barnes.”

_Moaning and maple syrup…_

“Barnes!”

_Darcy’s legs wrapped around his hips as he moved inside her, both of them breathless and sticky._

“BARNES!”

 _The way she threw her head back when she came, body arched into his. Her eyes all hazy after, satisfied smile on her lips, and fingers trailing along the back his neck. The soft whisper of his name...her guard finally dropped just enough to let him in...and then…._ the smack of a palm against the crown of his head nearly knocking his baseball cap off…

Wait. What? All memories of the day before with Darcy scattered as Bucky focused on Sam standing there frowning at him.

“What the hell, man, where’s your head at? Cap’s been calling your name over the intercom for the past five minutes.”

“Steve's paging me?”

“Yeah. Remember him? Big guy, blonde hair, two steps below the chief? He got some report back, wants you to see it.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I know you had some hot date with your girl this weekend or whatever, but save the daydreaming for your downtime. None of us want to deal with this mooning around shit.”

“What’s your problem?” Bucky straightened his ballcap, eyes narrowed at Sam. 

“You heard me. You’ve been giving me and everyone else around here diabetes since your shift started yesterday. Dia-betes,” Sam repeated, drawing out the word. For three seconds he maintained his glare, and then his face creased into a grin. “Nah. I’m just kidding. You look really happy, man. That’s good to see. Now, I’m not a guy to pry...but… Who the fuck am I kidding? Yes I am. Just between you and me, I’m wondering if the mooning means what I think it means. Purely in the interest of being a good friend of course. So, tell me, you two work things out?”

Bucky shook his head. “Sorry, Sam, you know I don't get into that notch on the bedpost stuff.”

“So there was a notch on the bedpost, huh? Good to know.”

“I never said that,” Bucky insisted. 

“You’re really not going to tell me? Barnes, we’ve walked through fire together. Literal fire, not just the metaphorical kind. Actual infernos.” Sam pressed one hand to his chest, shaking his head at Bucky. “It hurts, man. I am officially hurt.” 

“You’ll just have to be hurt. You know I can’t tell you what went on this weekend, it wouldn’t be fair to Darcy. She came over to my place, we had dinner, things are good right now. End of story.”

“I’m sorry, do my ears deceive me, or did you just imply that you two spent the weekend together at your place? Because that is what it sounded like. You know that, right?”

Shit. The man was too damn perceptive for his own good. Bucky acted like he hadn’t heard it, pushing up out of his seat to go see why he was being paged. “I should probably find out what Steve wanted. Might be important.”

“Don’t think this is over,” Sam called after Bucky as he headed up the stairwell to Steve’s office. “I’ll get it out of you. I always get it out people. That’s why they call me the Falcon. I see all with my Falcon eyes. You can’t hide anything from the Falcon.”

“Nobody calls you that!” Bucky yelled back down the stairs to him. 

“Some people do! Hey, Klein, people call me the Falcon, right?”

Bucky didn’t wait to hear Klein’s response, just ducked into Steve’s office. “What’s up? Sam said something about a report coming back?”

He knew even before Steve answered that whatever he had to tell him wasn’t good. The somber expression and deep crease between his friend’s brows spoke louder than words. “Have a seat, Buck.”

“Why?” Bucky gripped the back of the chair, making no move to sit.

“Because, both your Chief and Captain asked you to.” It was the Fire Chief, Bruce Banner, who had spoken. Whipping around, Bucky saw him closing the door to the room. “Please. Sit.”

Something was definitely wrong. If Steve looked tense, the Chief looked positively haggard. He chose the chair Bucky wasn’t clutching, pulling it out, and sitting down. Bucky glanced between them, and then took their advice, parking himself in front of Steve’s desk with a feeling of trepidation.

“What is it?” he asked. “Am I in trouble for something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Chief Banner said. “We wanted to talk to you about something in the recent reports that came back from the arson investigation team.”

“Which reports?”

“The last three.” 

Steve passed the papers across the desk so Bucky could see them. He paged through them. The top one was for the local pizza shop, followed by the old barn, and the abandoned apartment complex. The were all arson...Bucky already knew that was the case, but as he read down the first page, he began to get a sick feeling in his gut. The lab had found a link in the accelerant used in all three fires, and it was an odd one. Something that hadn’t been seen in twenty years, but one he knew all too well.

It was the same one used in the fire that killed his parents.

“Buck? You okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky felt the Chief’s hand on his shoulder. “We’ll catch whoever is doing this, Barnes. It’s only a matter of time.”

Bucky looked up. “Pardon my French, Chief, but that’s the same thing Fury told me when I was a kid, and he was in charge of this place. They’d catch the fucker.” He glanced down at the reports again, raw anger burning up into his throat. “You know what kind of faith a six year old has? I believed him when he said it. I waited for it to happen, and it never did. I lost my parents, and whoever killed them walked.”

“That’s not happening this time,” Banner said. “We’ve got technology they didn’t have back then. It’s a different ballgame now. Suddenly coming out of the woodwork after twenty years is their first mistake, and it’s going to be their last.”

“I want to lead the investigation on this,” Bucky told them. 

Steve sat back in his chair, nodding slowly. “I thought you might. It’s fine with me if the Chief agrees.”

“I’ll allow it as long as you're sure you can handle it, Barnes,” the Chief said. “This has the potential to dredge things up that you might not want to think about. Emotions can cloud your judgement, and lead to mistakes out in the field. That’s the last thing we need when the lives of your fellow firefighters and civilians may be on the line.”

“I know it,” he replied. “The team can count on me. Nobody is going down on my watch if I can help it. I promise you that.”

Chief Banner sized Bucky up for a moment, jaw set. “Then it’s yours, but if the Captain…” He jerked his head at Steve. “...feels like things are getting away from you, you accept reassignment without question. No arguments on that point. Wilson has just as much seniority, and he doesn’t have a dog in this fight like you do.”

“Understood.”

“Then it’s settled.” The Fire Chief stood up. “I expect you both to keep me in the loop about this, and Barnes, I want you to head home. Carter is coming in to take over the rest of your shift.”

Going home was the last thing Bucky wanted to do. “Sir, with all due respect…” he began.

“Bucky.” There was a warning tone in Steve’s voice that halted Bucky immediately. “The Chief and I have already discussed it. This isn’t negotiable. Go home. Use your days off to deal with everything, and we’ll pick it up at the start of your next shift. The case isn’t going anywhere, and I need you to be clear-headed when the time comes. Got it?”

The real message in Steve’s words was coming through loud and clear. Being sent home to process things was a test, and Bucky needed to stand down. If he didn’t listen to the Chief on this, how could he possibly be trusted to lead the team on the investigation? Besides, they had a point. The true weight of knowing the arsonist who had killed his parents seemed to be back in business hadn’t hit him yet. The last thing he needed was to be at work when it did.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll take a couple days, and come back ready to go. Thank you for letting me lead on this, Chief.” He got up, folding the reports in half so he could put them in his pocket, and held his hand out.

Chief Banner shook it. “Just between you and me, Barnes, I have faith that you’ll solve this. If there’s any of that six year old kid left in you, you let him know I said that.”

“I will.” Bucky turned to Steve. “Captain.”

“See you in a couple days, Buck, and I’ll call if I have any updates.”

Dismissed, Bucky left the office, and went to collect his keys from his locker. The drive home was made in a bit of a daze. He kept looking over at the reports on the passenger seat next him even though their contents was already burned into his brain. 

Walking through the front door to an empty house didn’t help his mood any. Normally he would have taken Dugan for a walk to clear his head, but that wasn’t an option anymore. He was just debating on going over the reports again, or forcing himself to watch some TV when his phone chimed with an incoming text from Darcy.

_I know you’re working, but I wanted to say hi._

He hadn’t even begun to reply, when his screen lit up with a second message from her.

_Also, I stopped in the grocery store on my way home, and I swear to god, buying syrup is never going to be the same for me again. I’m standing here blushing. What the hell have you done to me, Bucky? Look. Do you think she knows? I think she knows. She’s judging me._

Attached to the text was a picture of a very familiar bottle with Darcy’s hand wrapped around it. Bucky found himself grinning despite his rough day. He spent a couple seconds considering how to answer her, and then sent, _I’m home actually. Want to come over?_

 _I thought you were on until tomorrow. Did I get the schedule wrong?_ she asked.

He paused, then texted, _No. You're right about the schedule, but I came home early. Can we talk about it when you get here?_

_I’m in the checkout line with a cart full of stuff that needs to go in the fridge. My house instead? Fifteen minutes?_

_Sounds good,_ he sent. _I’ll meet you there._

 _K,_ she sent back. _See you in a few._

Bucky tucked the reports back into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and left for her apartment. The walk over helped a little to alleviate some of the adrenaline-fueled stress that was swirling around inside him. It wasn’t all gone when he got to her door, but enough was that he didn’t feel quite as twitchy and raw. 

What he wasn’t prepared for, was that Darcy looked like she was feeling close to the same thing when the door opened. She reached for him, hands tugging him through into her apartment. 

“God, you’re okay, right? Like, no limbs missing, or third degree burns or anything?” 

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he assured her. Now that he was actually standing in front of her, he didn’t know where to begin. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to talk about it. He noticed her counter was still covered in grocery bags, the fridge door standing open in her tiny kitchen. “Can I help put your groceries away?” 

“Sure. I just… Are you really okay? Are...are _we_ okay?” Darcy chewed nervously on her bottom lip, gaze dropping to the floor and then shifting back up to look at him. 

“Yeah. Of course,” Bucky said. 

“Really?”

He felt like a complete ass for not realizing where her mind might have gone. What else was she going to think? He’d finally just gotten through a few of her walls, and the first thing he did was drop the ‘we need to talk in person’ bomb on her. 

“Really,” he replied firmly. “C’mere, and I’ll show you just how okay we are.” There was a bare second of hesitation, and then she was in his arms. He folded her up tight, practically lifting her up onto her toes. “I missed you, Bennet.” He kissed her forehead, lips lingering on her skin. “Missed seeing you.” Two more kisses followed, this time on her closed eyelids. “Missed talking to you.” He pressed his lips to her cheekbone, working his way down her face. “Missed kissing you…”

The last was said in a near-whisper, as his mouth was finally aligned with hers. Darcy tilted up her chin, lips smooth and soft against his. Her kiss felt like welcome and want, both hands cupping his face to draw him closer. Bucky put all the control in those hands...and in the girl who had forgotten to close her refrigerator door in her hurry to let him in. 

A sweet, slow heat began building between them. Each touch of her lips, or flick of her tongue over his just served to increase the burn. The noise in Bucky’s head began to go quiet, unsettled emotions steadying. By the time she ended the kiss, tugging his bottom lip with her teeth as she pulled away, his body was humming with something far different from the mess of feelings he’d arrived with.

Darcy exhaled, winding her arms around his waist so she could lean into him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I swear I’m trying not to jump to the worst possible conclusions all the time. So, if it’s not us…?”

“Groceries first. Then I’ll explain everything.”

“Bucky, whatever it was sent you home from work early, and you’re worried about my milk and ice cream?”

“It’s involved,” he said. “I’d rather do this first.”

She nodded. “Alright.”

Dealing with her groceries let him hold onto the peace she’d given him just a little bit longer. It was easy to concentrate on the benign task, finding the right cabinet or shelf. Putting things away where they belonged. Discovering that she had a taste for raspberry mustard, and preferred to keep a package of peanut butter cups in the fridge.

“I know it’s kind of weird to keep chocolate in the crisper,” Darcy told him. “But I don’t care. I just really like them cold. Besides, if they're in there, maybe the nutrition from the broccoli will rub off on them or something. Like… healthy food osmosis.”

“Healthy food osmosis?” Bucky leaned against her counter, eyebrows raised teasingly.

“Yes. It’s a thing. Trust me. Have you seen the white cheddar cheese curls? The zygote insisted on them.”

“Here.” 

He handed the them to her, and she dropped the package into a drawer, sliding it shut and turning back to him afterwards. Then she gathered up the empty plastic bags, and pushed them into a keeper hanging just inside the pantry door.

“I think we’re done,” Darcy said. “Ready to tell me what’s up?”

It was a good question. Was he? Either way, he’d run out of reasons to delay.

“Yeah.” Bucky pulled the reports out of his pocket. I’m ready.”


	10. Reservations for Three at Chez Sofa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made, plots are plotted, and Darcy buys a new pair of pants...because reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I say anything else, I need to say thank you to amidtheflowers, who beta'd this chapter. She also listened to an awful lot of flailing on my part...for like...two weeks? Has it been two weeks? The woman deserves all the wonderful things forever. Trust me. She's a saint. Thank you for all your help, AtF. <3
> 
> Now. This chapter is mostly plotty plot with fluff. The next chapter is gonna be plotty plot with some prelude to action and then...
> 
> Well then all hell will break loose, and I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not, and I won't be then either so. Yeah. There's that. ;D (And also there might be some smut and fluff coming up too because I am not a COMPLETE monster. Usually.) Anyway, yes. Plotty plot. All up in this chapter. Hooray! I hope you like it. :D
> 
> *****************************************************

Tossing the sheaf of fire reports onto his coffee table, Bucky dropped his head against the back of the couch with a sigh. Six weeks. Six weeks and they were no closer to solving who had set the fires. Three more had been set in that time. Each one set in the same way, and each one taking out remote, abandoned places. The pizza shop remained the only one that had taken place in a populated area, and it was on a corner, set well away from any residences. Whoever had set it knew what they were doing.

Bucky’s mind was buzzing with anxiety. The words in the reports seared into his brain like a brand, white hot and building into a headache that was setting his teeth on edge. Nothing in the investigation was going right. He had no leads. He had no clues other than the ones he’d gone over too many times to count.

He had nothing.

It was frustrating as hell, and the worst part was that without another fire, he might not _get_ any more leads or clues. The last thing he wanted was another fire. There was something in the way the recent places had been chosen that felt ominous. It was like the anonymous firebug was building up to something bigger. If it was the same person who was behind the deaths of his parents, it meant they’d already killed once, and were back at it again. That worried Bucky like nothing else. No one had been hurt in this spate of fires. Yet. That didn’t mean they wouldn't be.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Then stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought until his phone vibrated next to him. It was a message from Darcy. They’d made plans to get together when she was done with work, and she was on her way.

Bucky’s lips ghosted up into a smile despite his heavy mood. Work had kept them apart for nearly two weeks, and seeing her was something he’d been looking forward to for days. Being around her helped him to tune out the noise in his head. At least for a little while. He hoped he did the same for her. 

Things had changed since that first time she slept over. The little shift in what they had continued to widen into something bigger, and more solid. Day by day, inch by inch they were building a relationship, and Bucky just kept falling harder for her as it progressed. He hoped she was falling harder too, it felt like it...but sometimes he could still sense her walls, lowered as they were. They were still there, ready to go up at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t sure what that was, if it was him she was afraid of trusting...or herself. He really hoped it was him. That he could fix. If it was her she was worried about...well, they’d cross that bridge when they got there. 

The sound of footsteps echoed on his porch, followed by a soft rap on the door. He answered it, the small smile from before blooming full force when Darcy slipped inside and wrapped her arms around his neck before he could even close it behind her.

“Today sucked for me. God, it sucked so hard,” she said, face buried in his shoulder.

“Same here,” he replied. 

She immediately looked up, brow creased with worry. “New fire?”

“No. Just the ones we already know about.”

“Ah. Same shit different day then. I hate that.” She snuggled closer. “Still no leads?”

“Not a thing. What’s going on here, huh?” Bucky reached down to rub his hand over the rounded swell just below her navel that was coming between them.

“I know! I went from looking like I’d maybe had one too many late night ice cream parties to probably definitely pregnant in the past week. What do you think?” Darcy stepped back, turning slightly sideways so he could get a better view of the bump under her shirt. “I can’t decide if I like it, or if I’m really freaked out. Also? I can no longer button my jeans, even with that extender thing Jane gave me. These are maternity pants. You are never allowed to see what the waistband part looks like EVER. You’ll never be able to unsee it, and our sex life will dry up completely.”

He looked at it, the fabric of her shirt pulled taut across the new roundness, and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen them,” she said. “They’re like, all _spandexy_ and come up to... Nevermind. I’m not going to describe it, because that’s almost as bad as you seeing them. So, what’s our plan for tonight?”

“What would you say to both of us eating takeout from the Golden Elephant at Chez Sofa?”

“Oooh, classy. Can we have ice cream too?”

“Why? The baby hear you mention it, and now you have to have it?”

She nodded, blinking innocently. “Yep. I will totally blame the zygote. It’s definitely not because I just really want ice cream now.”

“Then we’ll have ice cream,” Bucky replied. “Come on, gorgeous. We can order the food, and then I can tell you about everything that isn’t going right with the investigation, and you can tell me why your day sucked.”

“And after that, ice cream and making out,” she finished for him. “Perfect plan is perfect. Let’s do this.”

They placed the order, and Bucky explained the stalled investigation, unburdening himself of all the balled up anger and defeat that had been taking up room in his chest for days. Darcy sat curled up in the corner of the couch with the reports while she listened. She frowned as he spoke, her gaze skipping down the pages one by one.

“I don’t understand all of what it says in these, because I don’t speak firefighter or whatever,” she said, setting the papers back onto the coffee table. “But I _do_ understand why you’re frustrated. It’s a damned if they do, damned if they don’t situation, right? You don’t want more fires, but if this creep doesn’t set more fires, they’ll never get caught.”

“More or less,” Bucky replied. “No fires is always good fires…”

“Except that this is probably the person that...you know...with your parents and all. You want them caught and punished. _I_ want them caught and punished. A lot of people want that, right? Catching and punishing them is kinda key.” She gave a small shake of her head, teeth on her bottom lip. “Okay, this totally trumps my bad day. I’m officially going to stow it, and we can concentrate on yours.”

“No it doesn’t,” he said. 

“It really does,” she argued. “Trust me.”

“Fine. If you say so. Tell me about your day anyway.”

“You don’t want to know. It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that,” he said, reaching across the space between them to coax her closer to him. “Talk to me.”

Darcy scooted over the cushions until she was tucked up against his side with his arm around her. Then she looked up at him and sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but seriously, it’s going to sound incredibly trite considering what you’re dealing with.”

“Nah. Besides, it will take my mind off of all of the shit with the investigation. And I want to know.”

“Okay, so, it’s my boss,” she began.

“Frigga or Loki?”

“Loki. Frigga never gives me bad days.”

Bucky fought to keep from rolling his eyes. He’d met Loki once, and let’s just say he wasn’t impressed. “What’s his deal?”

“Well, we’ve got this new manuscript. You know, the Wanda Maximoff one? It’s for her next book. Anyway, the movie for her first book just wrapped production, and we’re trying to work it out so the release date of the new book coincides with the release date of the movie. Which is cool, it’s fine. It’s a smart move, and I totally get it. However, Wanda wasn’t happy with something in the manuscript, so we sent it back to her for the changes she wanted to do, and Loki is just pushing, and pushing, and pushing for her to get it done.” Darcy threw her hands up in annoyance. “And that means I have to keep calling her and bugging her about it. I swear, she must be completely sick of hearing my voice right now, and I don’t blame her at all. The thing is, if I don’t call, Loki will...and…”

“He lacks tact?” Bucky guessed.

“Yes. _That._ He’s not exactly great at finessing the authors, which is why that’s usually _my_ job. It doesn’t help that Frigga’s away at that conference in Chicago. She usually keeps Loki from running amok. I get that he’s trying to make a thing happen, and that thing is a good idea, but stalking over to my desk thirty times a day, demanding to know if we’ve gotten the updated version of the manuscript isn’t going to make it happen any faster. It’s just going to make me want to spell out the word ‘NO’ in staples on his forehead.”

He laughed, picturing her doing just that. “Other than your boss being a dickhead, what else is going on?”

“How did you know there’s more going on?”

“This,” he said, touching the wrinkle that had formed between her eyebrows. “It didn’t smooth out after you told me about your boss.”

“You pay an awful lot of attention to my face, buddy,” she said. “What’s that about?”

“What can I say, I can’t help myself. You’re a very pretty girl.”

“Uhuh.” She poked him in the side. “Is that all?”

“No. I might have a thing for you. There’s that.” He swept a tendril of hair off her face, and tucked it behind her ear. “It’s also possible that we’re getting to know each other, and I’ve got an uncanny ability to notice things about you.”

“Kind of like how I know that you want to kiss me right now?”

“Do I?” He did. In fact, he’d wanted to kiss her since she’d walked in the door, but there hadn’t been a lull in the conversation where he could fit it in.

“Yep. You’re doing the deep, dark, smoldery eye thing...and also, you’ve looked at my lips four times in the past three seconds, dude. It’s a little hard to miss.”

Bucky raised both eyebrows, smirk sliding onto his face. “Oh yeah? What are your thoughts on that?”

“I think you should just go for it. I mean, it’s not like I’m planning on stop… Mmmmm.”

Her word faded into a happy sigh as he took her advice and went in for the kiss. Darcy must’ve been sucking on one of the lollipops she’d gotten addicted to during her first few weeks of pregnancy while she was on her way over, because he could taste the bright, sweet mix of mango and citrus on her tongue. It was something he’d come to associate with her, along with the vanilla and floral scent of the soap she used, and underlying warm smell of her skin. 

The residual stress Bucky was carrying began to melt as she rose up and settled in his lap. He released it, letting it dwindle down until it was barely an echo of what he’d been dealing with all day. There was only here, and now, and the girl in his arms with the firm curve of her belly pressed against him while her lips moved in tandem with his.

His hands were bracketing her hips, fingers spread out over the fabric of her clothes. It felt...different. Not a shirt over skin like he was used to. There was definitely something else under the shirt that he assumed had to be the maternity pants Darcy had been complaining about. Stealthily, he slid one hand upwards, trying to determine what she’d meant. He was still moving up, counting ribs under his fingertips when she grabbed his wrist.

“Not unless you want to die, Barnes,” she murmured against his lips. “I mean it.”

Bucky drew back a little, eyes meeting hers. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Yes it can. You don’t know. The waistband of these pants is like every single unsexy thing on the planet condensed into a giant swatch of hideous lycra blend.”

“Are they comfortable?”

“Yes. _So_ comfortable. Which is why I’m wearing them despite the fact that they make my torso look like a blue spandex burrito.”

“I like blue. _And_ burritos,” he added.

“Ugh,” she groaned, burying her head in his neck for a moment. “Okay, whatever. It’s your funeral.” Darcy straightened so she could tug the bottom hem of her shirt up to expose her stomach. A wide stripe of dark blue appeared, and continued to grow until it ended just below where she had the shirt bunched underneath her breasts. “See? It’s terrible. So terrible.”

He looked at it, head tilted slightly. “It’s really not.”

Darcy snorted. “My boyfriend is a lying liar who lies.”

“May I?” he asked, and reached out to hook his fingers in the top edge.

“Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

It was, though. Bucky had been watching her shape change since he’d found out she was pregnant, but what she’d said when she first got to his house earlier was right. There’d been a transformation since he’d last seen her. He could see a definition to the contours of her frame that had taken her from a slight thickening around the middle to looking unmistakably pregnant. It was even more apparent when he’d folded the fabric down so he could see her bare skin.

Bucky brushed the backs of his knuckles over the soft curve. Then he turned his hand so his palm was flat over her belly button, thumb gently stroking her skin. She exhaled quietly, letting her forehead rest against his.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Bennet. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“There’s this one guy who keeps saying it,” she answered. “I think he might be crazy.”

“Only crazy about you.”

She huffed a barely there laugh, and looked down at his hand on her stomach. “Not that I don’t love hearing that, but I think maybe we’d better stop while we’re ahead here, or stuff is going to go down that will make for the second most awkward takeout delivery ever. Remember last time?” 

Boy did he ever. They started fooling around while waiting for the food to arrive, and one thing had let to another pretty quick. Bucky ended up answering the door shirtless with his jeans half undone while Darcy hid under the throw blanket on his sofa giggling uncontrollably. The minute the door closed behind the delivery guy, they both collapsed in laughter, and Bucky lost his grip on the bag, fortune cookies and fried rice spilling out across the hardwood. He’d never vacuumed while a girl wearing nothing but a blanket and smile had watched before. It was better than it sounded. Not that he wanted a repeat of the performance with their Panang Curry.

He stroked his fingers once more over the slope of her stomach, and took his hand away. “Point taken.”

“Right?” Darcy shimmied around, adjusting her clothes. Moments later the doorbell buzzed, and she gave him a triumphant look. “Ha! I knew it. Right in the nick of time.”

She slid out of his lap, and he gave her another quick kiss before going to get the food. A short time later they were both back on the couch, cartons lined up on the coffee table. Bucky passed her the plastic container of Tom Yum soup, and took a bite of his chicken satay. 

“So, you never said what the other thing bothering you was,” he said as he chewed.

“Oh that. It’s not really bothering me, so much as stressing me out. Truthfully, it’s a good thing, but it’s also way top secret, so if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” Bucky held up both hands, one eyebrow raised as if to say _who am I going to tell_ , and she pointed her spoon at him threateningly. “I’m serious. Nobody can know. Not even Steve. I work with Natasha, remember?”

“My lips are sealed. I promise.”

“Good, because I’m dying to tell you. It’s pretty damn awesome. Anyway, you know how Clint and Wade have been working on that new graphic novel? I might have showed some of the pages to Frigga, and she _loved_ them. In fact, she loved them so much that she’s decided Sleipnir is going to publish it, and she’s putting me in charge of the whole project. If it goes well, Frigga is considering opening up a whole new department just for that sort of thing. And, okay, here’s the most exciting part...I’d head up the department. It’s a big, big promotion. I really want to make sure everything goes well. So it’s stressful, but definitely good stressful. I’m happy for Clint and Wade, I’m happy for me. Basically, I’ve been doing backflips in my mind since Frigga gave me the news.” A smile broke out on her face, and then she ducked her head. “But yeah, it has to go well. So that’s the other thing. Is my forehead wrinkle gone now?”

He leaned across the couch, focusing teasingly on the space between her brows for a moment as if he were checking to make sure it wasn't still there. “Yeah, it’s gone. That’s great, Darce. I’m happy for you. Clint and Wade, too. Hey, does this mean Clint will finally meet Wanda? If they’re both with the same publishing house they’ll have to run into each other, right?”

“Maybe. There’s always the Christmas banquet. A lot of authors come to that. Poor Clint. He’d probably pass out if she talked to him. He’s been crushing on her from afar since he read her first book.”

“Does she know he exists?” Bucky asked.

Darcy shook her head. “Nope. You know, she’s going to be in town a few weeks from now. Maybe I could manufacture a reason for them to be in the same room.”

“Aren’t Steve and Natasha throwing that Fourth of July party around then?” Bucky took a sip of the beer he’d gotten for himself after the food arrived, wiping the wetness from the condensation on the glass off on his t-shirt. “Natasha could invite her.”

Her face lit up at the suggestion. “That’s actually brilliant. Bucky Barnes, you are a genius. Yes. I’m totally going to talk to Natasha. This is perfect. Clint will be in his element, because he knows everyone there. And it’s super casual, and Wanda will know everyone from work, so she won’t feel lost. It’s a great idea.”

“I’ve been known to have those from time to time,” he said, grinning. “You can call me a genius again if you want, though.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Once more?”

“Now you’re a genius who’s pushing his luck,” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “Fine. Two times is plenty. Hey, while we’re on the subject of get together type things, I had something I wanted to ask you. My uh, my grandparents wanted to know if we’d like to have lunch with them on Sunday.”

Darcy paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. He could see her taking in the invitation, and weighing it in her mind.

“This Sunday?”

“Yeah. One o’clock. What do you think?” 

Bucky wanted her to say yes. He _needed_ it, in fact. There was such a longing in him to show her where he’d come from, and for her to meet the people who had helped shape him into the person he was. He’d been staving it off while the two of them figured things out. Now he thought maybe...maybe. Maybe it was time.

There was still no answer from the girl across the sofa from him. Her spoon was frozen in mid-air, fingers tight around the handle. Then she looked at him, expression molding itself into something more determined. She took a breath, licked her lips, and said, “I’d love to.”

“Really?” He tried to keep the relief and elation from spilling out with his reply, but it wasn’t easy. Some definitely got through, and she smiled ruefully when she heard it.

“Yes. Really. It’s about time, right? I can’t hide forever.” Darcy glanced down at her stomach and shrugged. “Look at me. My hiding days are kind of over.”

“They are,” he said.

“Should I find it weird that it looks like you are turned on by that, or…?”

The laughter escaped him before he could stop it, beer threatening to tip over where it was pressed between his thigh and the arm of the couch. “I don’t know. It’s true though. You look hot carrying my baby.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Thank you?” Bucky offered.

She tossed a packet of unopened chopsticks at him. “Thanks, weirdo.”

“You’re welcome, gorgeous…baby gorgeous.” He said the last part while nodding at the bump.

“Yeah, yeah. Eat your damn satay, Bucky. Nobody has time for your nonsense over here on this side of the couch,” she said.

“I don’t buy that,” he replied. “We both know that you always have time for my nonsense.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s true. God help me. What have you done to me?”

“Don’t blame me. I’ve just been over here, acting like myself. If you’re falling for me, that’s your problem.”

“Actually it’s _your_ problem. You’re the one who’s going to end up stuck with me and a baby.”

“Am I?” His gaze met hers across the short space between them. It was like the very air in the room had gone still. “Am I, Darce?”

She swallowed, and he could see it was the same for her. The rest of the room...the food on the table...everything else moved straight into the background.

“Yeah. I… I think you are.”

He moved before he even thought about it, barely managing to get the container of satay safely on out of his lap first. The beer wasn’t so lucky. Somewhere in the back of his head, Bucky could hear the half-full bottle clatter to the floor. He knew there would be a mess to clean up, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not just then. He had far better things to consider. Things like Darcy’s lips, and her squeak of surprise that turned into a giggle of pure happiness as he covered her mouth with his own. 

“I think the floor is getting wrecked,” she mumbled between kisses.

“Fuck the floor,” he responded. “How do I get you out of these pants?”

**Author's Note:**

> ********  ********


End file.
